Daughters of a Desert World
by Eden Evergreen
Summary: Post-Manga, some spoilers. Completes the tale of a lady and her (OC) daughters, who live in Seeds village. (Or more precisely, it *will* complete the tale, when this part of the story becomes complete. *grin*)
1. Fatherless

**Author's Note:**_ Mangaverse - post manga. A few canon spoilers are included. Although I have tried to make this tale stand-alone, it is a sequel to "Seeds" and does intertwine a little with my earliest "VQL" stories._

**Disclaimer:** _I don't own Trigun [Maximum], or Vash, or any of the other characters in the series. I only borrow, with respect - and without any money involved._

...

...

**Fatherless**

_Occasionally, No Man's Land has sandstorms so severe that any travel out of doors is a risk to one's life. The speed of the wind gusts, and the density of the sands blown about by them, causes zero visibility. The wind gusts have the strength blow people about irresistibly. Any one in the village, who is foolish enough to go out in a storm of that nature, is likely to be blown into the mighty sand sea and never be seen again._

_One day, during an exceptionally severe sandstorm, Lisa was bored. She began poking around through her family's storage room, and discovered something toward the back of a high shelf. It was a book wrapped in soft leather, and then in a thick cloth. It turned out to be a very old diary_

_The name written inside the cover matched the name on a prominent gravestone in the family cemetery. That gravestone, she had been told, stood over the remains of an ancestor who'd lived centuries ago. She had been a leader in the village, a councilwoman. She had helped to guide the village during extremely difficult times, when there had been a serious danger that all humanity might possibly be destroyed._

_History didn't usually interest Lisa, but an ancestor who lived in _those_ times... well, that was different._

_She tucked an errant strand of carrot-colored hair behind one ear, turned a few pages, and began reading._

...

Although the circumstances surrounding my daughters' births were highly unusual, I did my best to make sure that their early lives were not too different from anyone else's. At least, I hope that their lives were as normal as anyone else's whose father had a traveling job that kept him away from home.

My daughters were compelled to grow up without their father, but this was _not_ his fault. If he could have been available for them, he would have. He is perhaps the most gentle, caring and responsible man on this entire planet. He will also defend lives at any cost.

Both girls were conceived without any direct interaction between their father and myself. Samples of his seed had been extracted, while he was badly injured and unconscious, in our village's hospital. Those samples were frozen. At the time the samples were taken, there were no plans to use them for anything except monitoring his health, and comparing prior samples to others that might be taken in the future.

We would _never_ have used his seed without his prior consent, if we had not fully believed that he was dead at the time. To think that he might have died, with no one to carry on his legacy... this was too painful for any of us to bear. He deserved that small touch of immortality that comes from having children to live on after him. Under circumstances like those, concerning a man who was so good, how could we not try?

I volunteered to bear his child, when the council was still in the early stages of trying to decide if providing him with a post-humus child should even be attempted. Fortunately, the council was persuaded. That first time, we kept doing injections until Lumia was conceived. She was born nearly a year after the crater first appeared in the fifth moon.

My daughters' father is not an ordinary human. He is something more than human: he is a member of the extraordinary race that is commonly called "plants." I have never heard of a plant who died of old age, though they can be killed or else worked to death.

Injuries, heartbreak, and fear for the safety of others had driven him into hiding directly after he was forced to create that large crater in the fifth moon. What drove him out of hiding was a need to protect us ordinary humans from another plant, one who had both the desire and ability to destroy all of humanity. We had no other defense: he was our only hope, and he knew it.

Lumia was slightly more than a year old when her father reappeared. Back then, there were several very good reasons to keep the identity of Lumia's immediate ancestry a secret from everyone. We could not risk the murderous plant learning about her, for he would certainly have come after her if he knew whose child she is. Her parentage was even concealed from her father, though I sometimes wished it could be otherwise.

For over a year, her father continued his fight against that genocidal madman. He'd fought that enemy previously, for over a century. He knew full well that opposing this enemy risked his own life. Yet that knowledge did not prevent him from giving his all to protect us. That's the kind of man he is.

His efforts, that cost him so much, saved many lives: quite probably all of humanity. He also saved many plants, who would otherwise have been worked to death in the process of destroying us. He is the one person who did the most, and risked the most, to cause the peace that now exists between humans and plants. He nearly died in that process, because he gave so much in such a short time. The respect that our village held for him only increased, because of these deeds.

Through no fault of his own, the father of my daughters was again driven into hiding. He hid himself extremely well, immediately after a battle in which he was known to be very badly injured. It seemed likely that he had disappeared because he was dying, and did not wish to burden anyone... or risk anyone, since his race sometimes released incredible amounts of energy at death.

Plants can sense very strong emotions from other plants from any distance. Lumia, though only half plant, had sensed strong feelings from her father several times before he disappeared. The complete lack of such emotional echoes after his disappearance was another reason why we had thoroughly believed he was dead.

As we mourned the loss of this incredible man, we chose to give Lumia a sibling. It is highly likely that, even as a half-plant, Lumia would live considerably longer than any ordinary human. Providing her with a sibling, since it seemed that she had lost her father, seemed kinder to her than leaving her alone in the world after I grew old and died.

Because of this decision and effort, during a time when we again believed her father was dead, Larissa was conceived. She was born when Lumia was slightly over two years old.

Sheriff Central had placed a high bounty on the head of my girls' father. Greedy bounty-hunters are not the most kind-hearted souls on No Man's Land. They have been known to take as hostages the friends and family of those they hunt, or to set traps in their homes. They are also known to be careless of their aim, when they shoot. So, to protect our village, he stayed away. The combination of his absence, and his complete silence, had convinced everyone here that he was dead.

Only six weeks before Larissa's birth, her father was somehow discovered by lawmen, bounty hunters and news reporters. Very briefly, they drove him out of hiding. Had it not been for the aforementioned circumstance being broadcast on satellite television, none of us would have known that he still lived.

Immediately after evading the bounty hunters and reporters, he vanished again. A voice message came over satellite radio a few weeks later. "Search not in silent years." His message was too brief to trace, doubtless by intent. Additionally, he'd somehow made it appear to come from _every_ satellite orbiting the planet. Clearly, he planned to vanish for a number of years, for his safety and ours. He did not wish us to search for him.

Aside from an obvious imposter, there were not even rumors of him. Nor did Lumia sense the faintest trace of an emotional echo from him. He must have been containing his emotions severely, for fear of discovery by others of his kind. We knew that one plant from earth was at least somewhat hostile toward him. We did not know if that other, homicidal plant, still lived. If one could be quiet enough to evade detection, the other might be doing the same.

After four years of complete silence, another message came over the satellite radio. It was also apparently coming from all the satellites at the same time, and far too brief to trace even without that interference. "Lumia's friend is safe," his message said.

He didn't know that she is his daughter. He only knew what I had told him: that she is _my_ daughter, and that she is grateful because he saved her life when our village was attacked. He knows that she wants him to be proud of how she is spending her life, since he saved it from the attackers.

I am a member of our village's council. He knew that any message to Lumia would also reach me. He was telling both of us, and possibly the council through me, that he had found a safe place to stay. This news was extremely welcome, though bittersweet. It meant we might not see him again for many long years.

Even though I knew he did not wish us to search for him, I could not entirely obey such a wish. I made sure that all of our people in other towns were watching for him, and ready to give him any assistance that he might need.

When my girls were with their tutors, and I had no greater priorities, I could often be found in the satellite communication center. I was checking the paths of all orbiting satellites. It took some effort, but I managed to trace the precise time of his transmission. Something had been done, probably by him, to make it very difficult to learn the exact time of the transmission. That should help throw off other pursuit, by those who knew him less well.

I began considering probabilities, based on the locations where the satellites were when his message came. He would surely avoid places where he might be recognized, or where the sheriff departments were likely to be highly alert. Large towns were unlikely, for he could not blend well into a crowd no matter how hard he tried. A remote place, that might not pay as much attention to the doings of the rest of the world, was far more probable.

I slowly began to narrow down, by process of elimination, possible locations. My best efforts to avoid worrying about him kept failing. I could not even find peace through prayer, which had often helped me in the past. So I hoped to find him, and see him. Even if I could not speak to him or touch him, even if it must be from across the street, I desperately craved to see him alive with my own eyes.

One exact transmission time, measured against satellite orbiting paths, was not quite enough information to learn what I wished to know. I was compelled to wait, and hope. I kept the map on my person, so no one else could see it. It was bad enough that I disobeyed his wish. I would not assist others in doing the same.

...

_Lisa lightly scanned and mostly skipped over several pages. _

_Those pages seemed to talk only about the daily lives of the two girls, and their schoolwork. Lumia studied medicine; Larissa studied engineering with respect to the care and maintenance of plants. _

_Those things didn't interest their descendant. She continued reading more thoroughly when she reached an entry dated eight years after the first._

...

He is clever, this father of my daughters. He somehow persuaded every satellite around this planet to claim itself as the source of his voice transmissions, each time he sent one of those very brief messages. He has now done this four times.

"Search not in silent years," was the first message he used to trick the satellite network.

Thereafter, once every four years, another message came. "Lumia's friend is safe," "Lumia's friend stays silent," and "safety in silence" were the other messages he sent, exactly four years apart. I obtained recordings of all four messages, and we played one each evening after dinner. I want my girls to know their father's voice.

Orbiting satellites move at different speeds. Based on the transmission times, and eliminating all satellites that were near or over large cities, I have narrowed down the likely locations. There are only four small towns, which are reasonably remote, near the paths of the various satellites at the times of his last three transmissions. It seems highly likely to me that he must have moved after sending the first message, so I did not include it in my calculations.

Two of those likely towns already have our people in them. Those towns are so small that our people would have seen him if he were there. Even if he disguised himself, he is tall and lean enough to have been recognized by our people from only those two details.

I'd started growing my hair out last year, in case he sent another message at the fourth-year mark again. I figured that he must have changed his hair, since his spiked style was one way that people could identify him. I did not wish to draw attention, if I could persuade the council to approve my intended plans, so I also changed my hairstyle to something that would blend in better.

I spoke to the council, at length. It took weeks of effort, but I finally obtained permission to do what I wished... without the encumbrance of bodyguards. I would take my daughters to visit those two likely towns. In one of those towns, hopefully, we should find their father.

I did not tell the council which towns I meant to visit. I only told them that it might take up to three years of travel time before I could return.

The council forbade me to inform him that my girls were also his. I accepted that restriction willingly. My goal had never included revealing that information, anyhow. I simply needed to see him, if at all possible. My girls were too sensitive to my moods, and they knew I was pining for him (in spite of my best efforts to avoid it). Since there was a possible method of curing that downward spiral, I needed to make the attempt.

I dared not bring this diary, lest it be misplaced and reveal things best kept concealed. So I am writing about these events after our return.

The first candidate town, the nearer of the two, was reached after only four months of sand-steamer travel. After nearly twelve years, he wouldn't be a "newcomer" anymore. I found the town's gossips, and asked about the people who lived there. It quickly became clear that the one I sought was not among them.

I caught the next sand steamer heading in the general direction I wanted, toward the other town. It wasn't a long wait, thankfully, until the next sand steamer came through that small town. My girls were growing restless, without access to the ship's computer.

Though they were twelve and fourteen, my daughters appeared to be nearer to fifteen and seventeen. They had both experienced the rapid growth and maturation that plants had during their first year. After that, pure plants age extremely slowly. My girls were aging much more slowly than ordinary humans did, after their first year of rapid growth, but they still seemed to be aging much more rapidly than pure plants.

Even if he were to see them, I did not believe that their father would guess that my daughters were also his own children. How could he? He had no knowledge that his seed had been taken, since he was unconscious at the time.

He might have known that it was a common medical procedure to take samples for monitoring the health of physically mature males, but it seemed unlikely he would guess that his own samples would be used in procreation. That part was definitely _not_ a common procedure.

In fact, when he learns, he may be greatly displeased. I hope, if he is displeased, that he will only despise me - and not his daughters. He is fair-minded, so I believe he will forgive them... even if he dislikes how they came to exist.

If he hates me for what I have done, after he learns, I will accept that. Though it will be extremely painful to me, if he does abhor me for the liberties I have taken, it is worth even that price to have known and loved Lumia and Larissa. I shall always cherish both of them, even as I have always admired and valued their father.

There were many delays in reaching the second town. For one thing, the town was nearly on the opposite side of the planet from our village. Also, there was only one sand steamer route that visited it - and that one only reached the town once per year.

It was difficult to contain my daughters' curiosity and enthusiasm. They were at least as eager to see their father as I was. Thankfully, they were also enjoying traveling and seeing more of our planet. To their young, sheltered eyes, the similarities of different parts of the desert had not yet become monotonous.

The desert does have its beauties, I won't deny that. Other times, I have enjoyed them as much as my girls do. This trip, however, all I could think of was their father. I resented the desert, whether beautiful or common, for separating me from him.

When we finally arrived at the tiny northern town, the first place we sought was the café. Unfortunately, it had a "closed" sign up in its window. I turned to a passer-by, a silver-haired man wearing the badge of a deputy sheriff, and politely asked if he knew when the café would open.

"Good day," I said. "I see that the café is closed, and we're hungry for something other than the fare that the sand-steamer crew provides. Will it open anytime soon?"

"Not for a week or so," he said. "They always take a vacation when the sand steamer comes to town. Even though it would be good for business, Naomi says they don't like the noise and crowds. So she takes her adopted daughter, along with that tall lanky lad they took in, and the three of them go camping out in the desert for a week each year while the sand-steamer is docked here."

"Tall lanky lad?" I repeated, my heart beating faster. Both of my daughters were holding my hands, and I felt their grip tighten as we heard the man's words.

"Yeah," he said. "Naomi and her girl found him just outside of town, around eleven years back. He's a quiet chap, who's about as tall and thin as a light pole. He's as clumsy as a youth who's just grown tall and not got used to his new body yet. He's good with kids, though. He plays with them nearly every day, and most of our kids really love him."

"What is he called?" I asked.

This man's description sounded so exactly like my girls' father that I had very few doubts. The timing of when he was discovered fit well, also. I didn't expect that Vash would use his own name, because of the bounty on his head. However, he might be using something that I would recognize.

"Naomi introduced him to us as 'Nate,'" the man said. "Funny thing was, during those first few weeks after he recovered enough to get out of bed, he acted like he didn't know we were talking to him when we used that name."

He shrugged. "Most of us figure he'd got a knock on the head somewhere along the line, and forgot who he is," he said. "Odd bird, though he seems harmless. Aside from helping at the café, working at the Thomas coop, and playing with kids, his only hobby seems to be planting and tending apple trees." He smilingly gestured toward a cluster of trees, of various sizes, in full leaf.

I looked toward the trees and smiled.

"Nate" was not a name that I recognized. Apparently, it hadn't been a name that _he_ recognized at first, either. Appearing harmless, though, that's something he excels at doing. I was even more convinced that Naomi's foundling was my girls' missing father.

"Forgive me," I said, "I forgot my manners. I am Luida, and these are my daughters Lumia and Larissa."

"Clem," he said, smiled, and extended a hand. I let go of my girls' hands just long enough for each of us to shake his hand.

"A member of my family went missing, about the time you say Naomi and her daughter found this 'Nate' fellow," I said. "He sounds like he might be the same person. If he forgot who he was, that might explain why he hasn't returned to us or even written."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Clem said cautiously.

"If we left something with you, for him," I asked softly, "would you mind terribly seeing that he got it?"

"I'd be happy to help," he said, though he sounded a bit hesitant. "The lad's likable enough, odd as he is. He seems to be good for Naomi. She'll miss him if he leaves."

"I won't ask him to leave," I said, "only to write now and then."

"Well, that's fair enough," he said amiably. He visibly relaxed.

"Naomi and her daughter, what are they like?" I asked, allowing some of my concern to show.

The radio messages indicated that he was safe, yet I also wondered about those with whom he had taken refuge. Were they the kind of people with whom he could be content? Were they treating him well? Did they have any idea who he is?

Since I had claimed him as a relative, I hoped the inquiry would raise no suspicions. Thankfully, the loquacious deputy seemed perfectly content to answer my question.

"Oh, Naomi's been part of this town since she was a child, when her father was hired to be our sheriff," Clem said, smiling. "She's been running the café since she got married, about sixty-five years ago. She's a widow now, though. She's so kind and generous that everybody around here loves her... especially the Thomas-coop owner, though he's not able to get anywhere near her since that boy arrived. I sometimes think the lad may have taken on that job at the coop just to keep the owner away from Naomi."

He chuckled before he continued. "Naomi brings a lunch, free, to the sheriff's office almost every day. She's even kind enough to put up the wanted posters for us, while we eat that lunch she brought. And it's always good food. She and her girl are both _very_ good cooks. I hear the boy helps out some with the cooking, too, though I've never noticed any drop in the quality or flavor. She must have taught him well."

I felt a chill at the thought of wanted posters. I would check the place where they were posted, as soon as possible. I nodded, encouraging him to continue.

"Naomi's grand-niece came here just after all that trouble down south, where all the plants were stolen, and all that other weird stuff was happening, and so many folk died," Clem continued. "Shyla, the girl's called. Poor thing's terribly bashful, and plain as... well, anything you could name. She almost never came out of the kitchen, until that boy arrived."

He chuckled again. "Nowadays, Nate brings her out with him to play with the kids, nearly every day. She used to cling to his right arm like she was going to tear it right off his body, until he got her used to playing with the children. She still holds onto his arm like that when they come to church, and looks mostly at the ground."

"I expect the poor gal's bashfulness is why Naomi mostly stays at home with her since she arrived," he continued. "Before that, Naomi was oftener out looking for folks to feed. She still brings food if anyone's died, or sick, or had a baby; but she doesn't stick around to visit for hours at a time the way she used to do."

"I'm sorry that I cannot meet them," I said sincerely. "They sound like good people. Is there anywhere else that I might buy a meal, since the café is closed?"

"There's the saloon," he said. "I'd recommend getting your eats and getting out before the evening crowd goes in, though." His eyes slid sideways to look at my daughters as he said that last part.

"Thank you," I said, nodding. I understood his meaning, and tried to let that show in my face. "I'll do that. Have a pleasant day."

"I'll do my best, thanks," he said, smiled and nodded politely, and walked away.

I walked down the street, still holding my girls' hands. The bag with our changes of clothes in it was heavy on my shoulder. When I saw him step into a shop, I hurried toward the sheriff's office. As expected, the external wall facing the street was covered with wanted posters.

I'd seen enough sheriffs' offices, during the course of our journey, to be reasonably familiar with the set of wanted people currently posted. All of the usual suspects were plainly displayed... except that there appeared to be no poster about Vash. I checked again, more carefully. I still could not find a notice of any kind suggesting that he was wanted for a bounty, not even hidden behind others. Yet I knew that he was still a "wanted" man.

It appeared as if this Naomi might know, or at least suspect, who he is. And her response to that knowledge, or suspicion, is an effort to protect him by not posting the notices that he is wanted. I felt much better as I led my girls toward the saloon.

We ate at the saloon as Clem had recommended, and then returned to the sand steamer well before evening.

"Girls, can either of you sense any emotional echoes that do not belong to me, or one of you?" I asked softly, when we reached the privacy of our assigned room.

Lumia tipped her head, and looked thoughtful. Larissa also made the attempt, but she had never knowingly detected her father's emotions. She wasn't quite sure what to "listen" for, so she soon gave up in frustration.

"There is a little," Lumia said delightedly, after a while. "It's faint, compared to what I've sensed before, but it's there." Her smile grew wider. "It's so good to feel from him again!"

"May I ask _what_ you feel from him?" I reminded her gently.

"Oh, sorry," Lumia said, embarrassed. "Pain and sadness are there, but there's also some calm and... I think it's humor. He must be telling jokes to someone. It feels like he did when he told jokes to me that one time. He's hurting, but he's trying to cheer up someone else."

I smiled. "Thank you," I said.

That was _so_ like him! No matter how much pain he suffered inside, he would smile for others and all his concern would be for them.

We worked together to help Larissa find and feel his emotions, too. That way, hopefully, she could do it again if there was a want or need to do so.

The calm my daughters both sensed, after Larissa managed to "tune in" on him, was the most encouraging part. If Naomi and her excessively bashful daughter had helped him to find a measure of calm, they had done him a service.

My girls had found a terminal on the steamer, and were using it to learn everything that computer's memory banks held. They thought it was fun to bypass the various security protocols, which was mildly unsettling. However, I knew that they would be careful to do no harm. They had already learned well the importance of not playing with the programs. So I knew they were only looking, and I let them look to their hearts' content.

The trip had been disappointing, to the extent that I was unable to see him. However, I had learned things that helped set my mind at ease.

Were I not a councilwoman, on a reluctantly-granted leave, I would stay to see him and to meet the people with whom he was staying. Unfortunately, my duty was now to return home as swiftly as humanly possible. I could not linger here for a year, and share this haven with him, no matter how much I wished to do so.

I had brought with me a vest made out of the special leather-like material that was nearly bullet-proof. It was tailored to fit Vash perfectly. It was the deep brown shade used for his body armor, instead of the brilliant red used for his coat. In its pocket, I put a small note that said, "You are loved and missed. Be safe and well, and send word when you can." I signed it "Your friends, Lumia and her mother and sister."

I wrapped this up into a package, and asked Lumia to write out a tag, "To my friend, Love, Lumia." We left the small package with Clem, who promised to deliver it to "Nate" when he returned.

It was difficult to leave, but, unfortunately, we could not stay a whole year until the sand steamer returned.

My girls and I stood at the back of the steamer as it pulled away. We watched there, holding hands, as the small town where he lived slowly dwindled out of sight.


	2. Those Who Tarry at Home

**Author's Note:**_ Mangaverse - post manga._

**Disclaimer:** _I don't own Trigun [Maximum], or Vash, or any of the other characters in the series. I only borrow, with respect - and without any money involved._

...

...

**Those Who Tarry at Home**

_Lisa skipped several more pages about Lumia and Larissa's daily life with their mother. Those pages described situations similar enough to her own life to qualify as "boring." She took in some of the details peripherally, growing more acquainted with Luida's daughters in her mind._

_So far, however, only the parts about their mysterious, heroic father truly interested her._

_"Vash," Luida had called the father of her daughters. She'd said he was a plant, a race that didn't die of old age. _

_Nate Saverem, who was also a plant, visited the village each year for the light-gun tournaments. He was a champion! He moved like lightning, and nobody could keep up with him. He didn't participate in the tournaments, though. He only did exhibition matches. However, since those exhibitions were held at the same time as the tournaments, that's when he came._

_Some people called him "Nate" and others called him "Vash." Lisa wondered if it might be the same man... or if it was his son. Asking about him being called "Vash" had received the response that it was his middle name, and some people who'd known another "Nate" used that instead._

_He always came to dinner at her family's house, one evening during his stay. She loved the way that Nate always hugged everyone so warmly when he arrived, and again when he left. He always had stories to tell about his various journeys as a deputy marshal. That job was the reason he was away from the village for most of the year. When he came to their house, he was like everybody's Grandpa._

_There was a "Shyla" who lived in the village. But she was a plant and not the grand-niece of an old woman from a distant small town who'd lived centuries ago. The coincidence of the names was interesting, however. Had she been named after the other one?_

_Lisa turned another page, to an entry dated several months after their return from the small remote village. She saw something that interested her, so she continued reading._

...

We received a letter today, from "Nate Saverem." The post-mark was from a larger town in the general vicinity of the small town where my girls' father has been living. I'd guess he asked one of the townsfolk, who was running an errand to the larger town, to mail the letter for him.

It was addressed to "Lumia and family." We took it home, and eagerly opened it to see what it said.

_To Lumia, and her mother and sister,_

_I hope you're all safe, and doing well. I miss you, also. _

_Thanks for the gift. It fits perfectly!_

_Clem told me about meeting you. I want to meet the little sister, too._

_Sorry I haven't written for so long, though I have thought of you._

_I'll stay while the older lady needs me. Then I'll bring her daughter. She will need you._

_Please, don't go through the trouble of coming again. It's so expensive, and there are so many bandits... I'd never forgive myself, if any of you were hurt._

_Life is quiet here. There's not much to write about. _

_I'll contact you, as usual._

_Please take care of yourselves._

_Until I see you again, all my best._

_- Nate Saverem_

I was so deeply moved that I really had to struggle not to cry in front of my girls. My fingertips caressed the page, especially his signature.

As carefully neutral and largely uninformative as it was, doubtless for fear it might go astray, the letter was something he had touched. He had written it with his own hand, and he had written it for _us_. It was infinitely precious to me, almost as precious as his daughters. I pulled both of them into a hug.

"He wrote to us," I said softly, and kissed each of their foreheads. "It was a risk, so he probably won't do it again. But I'm so glad he did, even if it is only just this once!"

We prayed for him, as we did every night, but with more enthusiasm.

...

_More pages were skipped, telling about how Lumia completed her medical degree and began her internship. Larissa completed her studies, and began working with the engineers tending the plants. They still looked like teen-agers, instead of adults, but the people in the village knew they were old enough to take on those tasks._

_Lisa impatiently flipped forward to the fourth year after his last radio message, when another message should be expected. She was not disappointed._

...

His next radio message should come during the next few days, so I began hanging around the message center. I found excuses, like sending polite greetings to the leaders of various cities, in an effort to be less obvious about waiting for his message.

Somehow, I don't think Brad was fooled. He was in the message center, doing repairs on some of the equipment, and there was a measuring look in his eye. I wondered if he was taking extra time on those repairs with the same motive that I had for wanting to check in with mayors and so forth from other cities. Brad knew we were due for a message, too.

Brad had married Jessica, five years ago. I was somewhat surprised that it took so long for her to fully swap her affections from Vash to Brad. Apparently, that girl was more tenacious than I had anticipated. She is currently expecting their first child.

My musings were interrupted as the entire network lit up. There appeared to be a message coming from every satellite simultaneously. "Quiet times continue," a familiar voice said clearly. Then, as abruptly as all the satellite feeds had lit up, everything instantly returned to normal.

A sigh escaped my lips, and I became aware of Brad watching me. I must have been careless, somewhere along the line. Our work threw us together often enough that it seemed he might be growing aware of something I'd prefer would remain hidden. I smiled at him, trying to behave casually and make light of it.

"Well, he's punctual," I said, and smiled.

Brad grinned. "Yes, he is," he said.

I spoke briefly the supervisor, requesting a copy of the recording of Vash's new message. He agreed to send a copy to my house. I turned to leave.

By some coincidence, Brad's repair work had just been finished. We left the message center together. "How's your wife?" I asked him.

"She's doing well," he said. "A bit moodier than usual, but the doctors say that's normal in her condition."

"Yes," I said. "One feels odd, when expecting. It's difficult to be as calm as usual."

"Well," he said, "calm isn't exactly Jessica's area of expertise."

I almost giggled. "No," I said, smiling, "I suppose it isn't."

"You never did tell me," he said, lowering his voice after we reached the hallway, "how your trip went. Did you find him?"

"I didn't see him," I said, equally softly. "But I spoke with someone who had."

"And?" Brad said, sounding ever so slightly impatient.

"He's staying with an old woman who's known for being kind-hearted, and her extremely bashful adopted daughter," I said. "The old woman feeds the sheriff's office lunch every day, and puts up all the wanted posters for them. I checked the wall of wanted notices, and it had nearly all of the same posters I'd seen everywhere else. There was one notable difference, however. The one for Vash wasn't there."

"I think I like that old woman already," he said, smiling. "Any idea how old she is?"

"The man I spoke with said she'd been running the café since she got married, about sixty-five years prior to my visit," I said. "That would put her somewhere in her eighties now."

"He may stay there as long as she lives, then," Brad said.

I nodded. "That's what I expect, also," I agreed, thinking of what he'd written in his letter. "We'll see what happens after that."

"I hope he comes home," Brad said. "He's a good man."

"Yes," I said, even more softly. "Yes, he is."

We parted at an intersection, nodding to each other as we went our separate ways.

That evening, I added the new message to the rotation. Both Lumia and Larissa were pleased by the surprise.

...

_Lisa skipped ahead four years, to look for the next radio message. However, she saw something written there that suggested a message had already come. So she began working her way back, briefly scanning the opening of each entry, until she found what she sought._

...

There were days when I found myself missing my girls' father more than on others. On one such day, I wandered toward the message center. It wasn't his usual year to send word: that would be next year. However, it was the month when he usually called.

I'm not sure what I was thinking. Perhaps I expected that visiting the center, and seeing that there was no message, might help me to stop being so distracted. There was certainly no reason to expect any message. Yet, irrational as it was, I hoped for one.

I greeted the various personnel who worked there, one after another. When not busy with my own calculations, or various other efforts to improve our use of technology, it was good for me to visit around anyway. It was an opportunity to keep in touch with everyone, and to learn if anything was needed.

Just as I had finished speaking briefly with everyone in the message center, the entire network lit up again. "Silent journey begins soon. See you when we can," Vash's voice said distinctly. Immediately afterward, as previously, the satellites all resumed their normal operations.

Something must have happened to the old lady. Either she was dying, or had recently died. Either way, he would need to help tend whatever she left behind. And he said "we," so he must still mean to bring the woman's daughter.

I looked at the supervisor, who mouthed the word "copy" and saluted. I smiled, nodded, and turned away.

A silent journey suggested he did not plan to make contact again while he traveled. It also suggested that he planned to stay out of sight, which meant he probably would not ride on a sand steamer. On foot, I estimated that the journey from the small town where he'd been staying to our village could take around two years.

I did not know why he believed the bashful adopted daughter of the old woman would need us. However, I was sure that he had a good reason.

Sheriff Central was still sending out wanted posters for him with annoying regularity. Unfortunately, that meant he might not stay long after bringing his friend. Either way, I wanted a place ready. I would purchase and prepare a small house. One of them could live there, and we could decide how best to house the other when I learned his plans.

Our daughters were seldom home anymore, except to sleep. Some evenings, at dinner, neither of them was home. Each had become deeply involved in her own job, and in socializing with friends met there. Time weighed heavily on my hands, in the hours when I had nothing official that needed tending.

I felt a strange combination of relief and elation. First, he was coming home - even if only briefly. Second, there was finally something I could do for him! I wanted to sing and shout and dance about, but I needed to be mindful of the dignity of my position. So I did none of those things, but instead only smiled.

I left the message center to walk around the residential area. I began looking for a suitable small house, where either Vash or his friend's daughter could live. I wanted it to be ready for them when they arrived.

If it turned out that they didn't need the house, I figured it could always be sold. Though I hoped it would be of use to one or both of them.

At the end of one row of homes was a small place that might do. Its former owners had grown elderly, and moved in with their children. It would take some work, since it had been abandoned for a few years. Also, the advanced age of the prior owners had resulted in some of the needful maintenance not being kept up.

However, it could again be made into a pleasant place to live. I walked around in the house, picturing how I would improve it for him. This bedroom I would paint in various golden tones, somewhat like the desert sands appeared during sunset. That one I would paint in blue-greens, to be as different from the desert as possible.

The main room I would mostly paint white, though I might see about hiring that painter who could make parts of a wall appear to be made of marble. The look of green marble, from floor to approximately waist-height, could add a touch of elegance without being excessive.

I knew that plants craved light, so I tried to think of a way to enhance light getting into the place. Vash might be uncomfortable if the house felt too dark, unless it was night.

Like all the other cliff-built homes, it had windows in only one wall. The back wall was against the cliff, and could not have windows. The side walls were also windowless, from being deeply dug into the rock.

Then I had an inspiration. Stained glass windows could help solve this. I could have the builders install strips of stained glass at the top of each wall, against the ceiling, with support between the window-strips so that the structure remained strong. Those window-strips could be as thick as the length of my forearm from elbow to wrist. That would both allow some external light to get in, and at the same time retain a measure of privacy.

Installing more stained glass windows atop each of the internal walls would permit some light from outside to reach even the back areas of the house. That could also bathe the house in the beauty of sunrise and sunset all day long.

Nodding with satisfaction about my plans, I left to see about making the purchase.


	3. Reunion

**Author's Note:**_ Mangaverse - post manga._

**Disclaimer:** _I don't own Trigun [Maximum], or Vash, or any of the other characters in the series. I only borrow, with respect - and without any money involved._

...

...

**Reunion**

_Lisa turned pages until she reached the day that Vash and Shyla arrived._

...

He'd radioed the evening before. This time he'd not set off the entire network, but instead used only a very narrow-feed transmission that should only reach our village.

"Nearly home," his message said.

Lumia, and everyone older than she, all displayed some measure of excitement and bustle. He was coming home! Even if only for a short visit, everyone who'd ever met him was excited. It was much the same festive feeling as if a holiday had come.

Most of the village had remained ignorant of his prior transmissions, because of the way Sheriff Central and the Earth forces kept applying pressure for information leading to his capture. Besides, proof that he was alive last week was no guarantee that he still breathed this week. So all had continued to hope, and the preacher had called periodically for people to pray for him.

Finally, after twenty-two years, he was returning. Nobody knew precisely when he would arrive. Half the town was finding reasons to be near the gondola, hoping to see it coming with him in it.

Nearly everyone was wearing something more festive than their usual, everyday clothes. Some were baking; there would be a community feast in his honor this evening. All would enjoy it, even if he arrived too late to enjoy it himself.

Our hero was returning. The one who had saved the planet, and who had defeated the madman intent on destroying all of humanity, was coming home. Everyone was terribly proud that this legend thought of our small, secluded village as his home.

It was late afternoon when the gondola was called for. I'd considered shooing some of the folk away, but that would have felt hypocritical. I was there for the same reason they were. I waited with the same eager anticipation as my fellow villagers did, though I tried to conceal it beneath a veneer of calm.

The cable car seemed to move with uncommonly slow speed, though I expect that was merely a reflection of my own impatience. Finally, it arrived. He stepped out, covered with dust and sand... dirt that was spread over his familiar red coat.

Behind him, was... a girl? Surely, the old woman's adopted daughter must be older than _that_ by now. She was tall and thin, but as yet showed no signs of developing feminine curves. Her face was that of a child. I felt confused, but I extended a hand to shake hers as he introduced Shyla to me.

"Pleased to meet you," I said, and smiled.

She accepted my hand, and shook it. She nodded politely, and then looked back to Vash.

The poor girl's eyes were huge. She wasn't quite frightened, but she was _very_ nervous. She hovered by Vash's sleeve, and clung to his arm when he wasn't shaking hands with someone.

"My daughters, Lumia and Larissa," I said, performing my own introductions.

"Good to meet you," Vash said to Larissa as he shook her hand. "I remember you," he said to Lumia. "It's good to see you again."

The girls both smiled prettily for their father. Lumia dodged his extended hand to hug him. His face registered surprise, but he hugged her back with a grin.

Then he turned and began introducing Shyla to everyone else within reach. I watched to make sure that both of my daughters shook Shyla's hand when he introduced her to them.

Shyla shook hands, nodding politely to each person who noticed her and acknowledged Vash's introduction. I was sorry to see that some people overlooked her, from being too busy drinking in the sight of her companion or else from trying to tell him about things that had happened recently in their own lives. She was in danger of being separated from him, which was likely the cause of her alarmed expression.

After a short time, when at least half of the gathered people had shaken Vash's hand, I took pity on her, and on him. I clapped my hands to get everyone's attention. "Ok," I said, "We've all seen that he's back and we're all glad. I'll do my best to get him and his companion both to the community feast this evening. Then you can all greet them in a more relaxed situation."

There were some grumbles, but my next words dispersed them effectively. "Until dinner, we still need to finish what needs doing today," I said. "Unless I'm very much mistaken, some of you have been hanging around here and neglecting other duties. There's no more excuse for neglect."

I signaled Brad, who approached with Jessica close behind as other people began moving away to tend their jobs. Brad was holding their two-year-old son.

"Brad, Jessica," Vash said, smiling, as they approached. "This is Shyla. She will be living here, in the village, from now on."

"Good to meet you," Brad said, shifting his boy to his other arm so that he could more easily shake hands. "This is my son, Gordon."

Jessica was uncommonly tense and quiet. There was a look in her eye that I misliked. She _had_ given up her fantasies about Vash before she married Brad, hadn't she?

"Could you two please help Shyla to learn her way around, and get to know everyone?" Vash asked. "I need to speak with Luida."

"Of course," Brad said amiably. "Come on, Shyla. There's a lot to see." He turned away and began walking toward the ship.

Vash had turned toward me, so he probably didn't notice that Jessica ignored Shyla's offer of a handshake. She stiffly turned to follow her husband and son. Shyla looked puzzled, and glanced back at Vash. When she saw that he wasn't looking, she quietly lifted her bag to her shoulder and followed Brad and his family.

"Shall we go to my office?" I suggested. "I'd expect we can talk more quietly there."

He nodded, shifted his bag on his shoulder, and followed me.

"Aren't you going to hug him, Mama?" Larissa asked. "I thought that old friends usually hugged, when they'd been parted for a long time."

"Yes, sometimes old friends do hug," I said gently, carefully avoiding looking in Vash's direction. "I'm just not sure if Vash and I are the 'hugging' type of friends."

I'd noticed that he didn't usually seem inclined to hug adults. I didn't want to do anything that would make him feel uncomfortable around me or our girls.

"I don't think they hugged last time I saw them," Lumia said thoughtfully.

"We shook hands," I said. "That will do for now. And don't both of you have other things you should be doing?"

My girls giggled, and hurried off to tend their own neglected duties before Vash and I reached my office.

Vash looked after them, a mildly puzzled expression on his face.

My girls' aging had slowed enough that they looked younger than they are, instead of older. Though actually 23 and 25, they appeared to be nearer to 18 and 20.

"I'm sorry about that," I said. "I fear I have failed to teach them to curb their curiosity enough to keep awkward questions to themselves until after we're at home."

"They seem happy," he said, and smiled.

"I hope so," I said, and closed the door to my office. "Are you sure that you don't want to rest or eat something first?"

"That can wait," he said. "We need to talk."

"All right," I said, gesturing to the chairs in front of my desk. He took one, and I took the other. "What can I do for you?"

He lowered his duffel bag to the floor beside his chair, and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He contemplated the floor by my feet. "When I - well, that is, when Knives and I ... happened," he said, "Rem found us. She looked after us, and was like a mother to us. I was devastated when she died."

He looked up at me and I nodded for him to continue.

"Naomi found Shyla the same way that Rem found us," he said, still studying my face. "She raised her very carefully, keeping her almost entirely hidden, for two years. Then, when Knives caused so much trouble, she claimed that Shyla was her orphaned grand-niece. She kept telling that tale, until she died. Shyla doesn't have anyone else."

That meant Shyla was born the same year as Lumia, two years before... Suddenly, the full import of his words struck home. "Shyla's a plant," I said. It wasn't a question.

"Yes," he said. "I had to get her out of there. People in that town were beginning to look at her strangely, and I feared for her safety."

"I think I understand," I said slowly.

"I've never helped to raise a child before," he said, looking back down at the floor. "I think Naomi and I may have done Shyla a disservice. We both wanted to protect her, and we may have overdone it. She's still terribly bashful, and there are things she should know by now that she doesn't. I need to get away from her. I've become an obstacle to her growth as a person."

"I'm sure you're not _that_ bad for her," I said. I instinctively reached out and touched his coat sleeve, where it covered his right forearm. "She trusts you. It shows. I'm sure you are not the kind of person who would ever intentionally betray that trust."

"No, not intentionally," he said, his expression pained, "but I might be trouble for her by accident. She needs things that I can't give her."

"What can I do?" I asked again.

"Let her live here," he said. "And teach her... everything. Help her to find out who she is, and who she can become. Keep her safe."

I nodded. "Many saw her arrive with you," I said. "That's why you radioed ahead, isn't it? You wanted everyone to see the two of you together, and know that she's your friend."

"Yes," he said. "I don't want her to be treated like an outsider."

"I'll do all I can," I promised.

"Thank you," he said. "I know you'll take good care of her, probably better than I could do myself."

"I'm not sure I can do _that_ well," I said, "since I'm only human and you're something more. But I will do my best."

He chuckled. "More trouble, I expect you mean," he said.

"Vash," I said, intending to scold him for being too hard on himself.

Before I could say anything more, however, the door to my office opened. There stood Shyla, slightly out of breath. She was frightened, and showed it from her eyes to the way she stood.

Brad and Jessica were hurrying to catch up with her. He still held his son. He looked at her, then at me, and shrugged with a puzzled expression on his face. I nodded to him.

Jessica had an intense expression on her face, and her jaw was clenched. She was almost glaring at Shyla. If I didn't know better, I'd think she was jealous. I would have to watch her behavior, or else keep her away from the newcomer entirely.

When Shyla saw Vash, she immediately relaxed. Her mouth soundlessly formed his name.

"Hello Shyla," he said amiably, and smiled. "We were just finishing up here."

It took her a few tries, but she finally spoke. "I thought you might have left already," she said, very softly.

"Not yet," he said. "I'll see you settled in, and stay the night. I will need to leave in the morning, though."

"Don't forget the community feast," I said. "They won't forgive me if you two don't show up."

Vash chuckled. "Would you show us where we're staying tonight, so we can clean up a little first?" he said.

"I've purchased a small house," I said. "It's ready for one or both of you, as needed."

"It will be Shyla's, then," he said. "I can stay on the couch, if there is one."

"It has two bedrooms," I said. "So you can do better than a couch."

"Great," he said, smiling. "Show us to it, please?"

"Certainly," I said. "If you'll both please follow me?"

I signaled release to Brad. He nodded, gathered Jessica with his free arm, and they began to walk away.

Shyla lifted her bag from where it had fallen on the ground by her feet, and edged toward Vash. He picked up his bag, stood, slung it over one shoulder, and smiled at her. She smiled back, and took a hold of his right arm. He seemed unsurprised by this. That fit with what Clem had said back when I briefly visited the town, several years ago.

Since the weather wasn't too windy, and the air was reasonably clear, the walk from the ship to the residences built into the side of the cliff was a pleasant one. I kept glancing back at them, partly to drink in the sight of Vash alive and well... and partly to see what manner of girl Shyla is. Her fear was gradually transitioning into excitement.

I opened the door to their house... Shyla's house, as Vash had called it. Both began looking around. Vash touched the whitewashed stucco walls in the main room, and smiled when he saw the strips of stained glass atop every wall against the ceiling.

"This house will always have light in it," he said, smiling delightedly. "What a clever thing to do! Thank you," he said, turning toward me. "This will be a good place to come home to, when I can visit."

"I hope so," I said. "I've tried to make it a comfortable place to live."

"I think you've succeeded," he said, still smiling.

Shyla had wandered back toward the kitchen area. She was looking into the various cupboards and finding the dishes, cooking utensils, and imperishable foodstuffs I'd provided. She began to smile.

"It has everything," she said softly, caressing a cupboard. "Everything except fresh foods, but you wouldn't have known exactly when to expect us, would you?"

"We didn't know until last night," I agreed. "We can add whatever you need, now that you're here."

"Thank you," she said, and favored me with a gentle smile.

Vash had wandered into the storage room, and then into the back bathroom. The door of the latter he closed behind him.

Shyla continued walking around slowly; almost as if she thought she was dreaming. She touched the dining set, and then returned to the sitting area and touched each piece of furniture: upholstered chairs, couches, tables, lamps, and book cases. After this, she walked into the blue-green bedroom and gasped.

"It's beautiful!" she said, and put down her duffel bag.

She turned toward me, with tears in her pale, almost colorless grey-green eyes. I was standing in the doorway, watching her. Suddenly she surprised me with a hug.

"Thank you," she whispered as I somewhat awkwardly returned her unexpected hug. "Vash said you were a good friend, and that I could trust you completely. I believed him, but I didn't know... this is truly wonderful. He said I should be happy here. I promise: I will try my best."

I patted her shoulder. "You're welcome, dear," I said. "Any friend of Vash's..."

She pulled away and smiled, though still blinking tears from her eyes. "Yes," she said. "Any friend of Vash's I'd be proud to call my friend, also."

Her eye was caught as the clouds moved outside, allowing more sunlight in through the windows, both stained glass and plain glass. "This place is almost like heaven," she said softly, her voice filled with wonder.

I smiled. Vash was correct; in many ways, she remained a child. She was already growing on me. There was something genuinely sweet about this bashful girl.

I was also touched by the high praise that Vash had said to her about me. I prayed inside that I'd not fail him, or her. This girl might one day become the answer to the secret prayer that I had prayed for so many decades: a female plant who could cure Vash's loneliness.

I heard sounds of active plumbing from the back bathroom that indicated Vash had made use of it. He emerged, smiling, from around the corner where the bathroom was located.

I stepped aside from the doorway to the bedroom Shyla appeared to be claiming, and he peered past me.

"Oh, it's in Shyla's favorite colors," he said, sounding pleased. "That will help." He walked away, to look into the other bedroom. He immediately put his duffel bag down. "Ahh," he said. "It's like the desert, at sunset: the most beautiful time of the day."

I smiled. I hadn't known which colors either of them might prefer. I was glad that I had chanced upon tones that they liked.

"I'll let you two settle in," I said. "Please don't forget the community feast. It begins at seven, in the largest dining hall."

"We'll be there," Vash said.

"In that case," I said, "I'll look forward to seeing you then."

I quietly returned to the front, glancing through the door to Shyla's room to see her still smiling and looking at everything in there. Her extreme delight made me smile as I let myself out of their house and walked away.

The community feast began two hours later. Both Vash and Shyla attended.

Shyla was mostly a wall-flower, hugging walls and finding unobtrusive corners when she couldn't cling to Vash. I tried to encourage Lumia and Larissa to befriend her, but they were too excited about seeing Vash... and, in truth, I couldn't blame them for that. Perhaps tomorrow they'd have more thought for Shyla.

I couldn't attend her much, either, because people kept coming to talk to me about business matters. There are some drawbacks to being a councilwoman. I tried to encourage Shyla to stay near me when Vash was busy, but she kept receding into corners anyway.

Vash, at least, seemed to be at ease. He was talking and smiling with people, and allowing various girls to pull him to the area where people were dancing. He's a very good dancer, and our daughters each took two turns on the dance floor with him.

It was growing late, and people were beginning to reluctantly disperse, before I had an opportunity to speak with Vash again.

"What do you plan to do, when you leave us tomorrow?" I asked softly.

"I keep hearing about crimes committed in my name," he said. "I don't want my name to be a weapon that others can use to hurt people. I'm going to find each of them, tie them up, and then deliver each one to the nearest sheriff's office. Maybe, then, people will forget about me."

"We will never forget _you_," I said. "If people forget your evil reputation, though, that would be good. Our sheriff, and deputies, the other council members, and myself... we are all weary of being compelled to post 'wanted' notices for you. We know that you don't deserve that kind of treatment."

"I have killed," he said broken-heartedly, as he deeply bowed his head. "I deserve to be hunted for that."

I laid my hand on his bicep, since it was awkward to reach up to his shoulder. "But it wasn't what you wanted to do, was it?" I said soothingly. "You've never sought to harm anyone."

"It doesn't change the fact that death often follows me," he said sadly.

"Maybe that will change, now that Knives is gone," I said.

"I wish he'd changed sooner," Vash said. "He saved my life, did you know that?" He turned his face toward me, with a question in his eyes. There was still much pain reflected in his gentle face.

I shook my head. "No, I didn't know," I said.

"He's the one who took me to the small village where I recovered for the first six months," he said. "I had passed out."

"I'm glad you were correct, and that he could change," I said gently. "I hope he found some peace."

"I can't sense him," Vash said, "but that's happened before. I don't know if he's alive or dead, or if the change that resulted in him saving my life will stick if he lives. That's another reason I need to leave. I must try to learn what happened to him."

"I understand," I said. "Come back when you can, please. We'll all miss you while you're away."

He laid his hand over mine, which still rested on his arm. "Thank you," he said. "I'll return when I can do that without endangering anyone here."

I smiled. "Thank you," I said, "for all you've done, and for being our friend."

A smile reshaped his mouth, though it didn't reach his eyes, as he squeezed my hand.

Others approached, and our brief conversation was over. I spent what remained of the evening trying to coax poor, bashful Shyla out of corners... until Vash rescued her completely with an invitation to return to their home.

I watched them leave together, feeling a little wistful. Then I went to my daughters, and invited them to return home with me. They accompanied me home, though with less inclination to cling to my arms than Shyla had shown toward Vash.


	4. Tricks and Truths

**Author's Note:**_ Mangaverse - post manga._

**Disclaimer:** _I don't own Trigun [Maximum], or Vash, or any of the other characters in the series. I only borrow, with respect - and without any money involved._

...

...

**Tricks and Truths**

_Lisa impatiently turned to the next page, to see what happened the next day._

...

I learned later that my girls had gone early to Shyla's house, and peered into the windows until they discovered which room Vash was sleeping in. That mischievous young pair had tapped on the glass until he awoke and opened the window to see what they wanted.

"Mama wants to see you," Larissa said. The young scamp knew that, technically, what she said wasn't a lie. I always want to see Vash... well, at least _nearly_ always.

"Please come," Lumia said.

They told me he yawned, and scratched at the back of his neck, before grabbing the hem of his long-sleeved pajama top and self-consciously tugging it farther down over his pajama bottoms. "Are you sure?" he asked. "It's awfully early." 

They both nodded with innocent expressions... a trait they probably inherited from him. I have been on the receiving end of those expressions enough times to know exactly how effective they can be. Vash might have even less resistance to that tactic, from them, than I do, since he has not weathered years of their efforts to persuade by using that means.

"Ok," he said, still sounding uncertain. "I'll wake Shyla and we'll come..."

"Just you, please," Lumia said.

"If you come quickly, Shyla won't have time to miss you," Larissa added.

"This must be important?" he said.

Again, they both nodded.

"All right," he said, "I'm coming."

He pulled the curtains closed, and they heard him go into the bathroom. A very short while later, he came out of the house clean-shaven and wearing a long-sleeved shirt and jeans. He closed the door softly, and followed them to my house.

They sent poor Vash down the hall to my room.

Their timing could not have been worse, from my perspective... and probably Vash's, as well. From Lumia's and Larissa's perspective, it was perfect. They had learned how most post-adolescent males reacted upon seeing an incompletely clad female, and it seems they hoped for a similar reaction from Vash toward me.

He arrived just exactly long enough after I'd come out of the bathroom from washing that I was sitting on the edge of my bed with my body towel resting like a pool around my hips and covering only the lower parts of my body. Thankfully, I had another towel around my neck! I was using it to rub my hair. I quickly snatched the towel off my neck, and clutched it over my chest, as Vash spun in the doorway until his back was turned toward me.

I felt heat in my face, and guessed that my girls must have been trying to "help" their father and I to grow closer to each other. I pushed the words I wanted to say to them out of my mind - first, I must find a way to make things right with Vash.

My 52nd birthday had come last month. Suddenly, I was painfully aware of various places and ways that my age was showing. I'd noticed those changes before, but at that moment... I was embarrassed beyond words.

"I'm sorry," I finally managed to say. "I wasn't expecting anyone to come so early this morning."

"Lumia and Larissa told me that you wanted me to come, and that it was important," he said, still steadfastly staring into the hallway while his back filled my bedroom's doorway. "They asked me to hurry."

"I'm truly sorry," I said, feeling still more heat in my face. "I thought I'd raised them better than to lie like that. I hope you weren't too badly disgusted by what you saw."

"I'm turning around," he said.

I gasped, and looked at him... he wasn't kidding, though he was turning _very_ slowly. I quickly adjusted both towels to cover myself better. I was still holding the second towel over my chest. I looked askance at him, as soon as his face was in view.

He took the few steps from the doorway to where I sat on the edge of my bed. He dropped to rest on his right knee, with his left leg bent in front of him. He rested his left elbow on his left thigh, and rested his right hand on my left shoulder.

He looked directly into my eyes, without glancing anywhere else even briefly.

"You're my friend," he said with gentle firmness. "Nothing about you could ever disgust me."

"It's kind of you to say so," I said quietly, still blushing. I was so embarrassed!

As I looked into his gentle aqua eyes, I realized that I had placed my right hand against the left side of his face. I also realized that the change in his hair color, from blonde to black, had not diminished his appeal in the slightest. His might not be the most handsome masculine face ever to grace this desert world called "No Man's Land," but his features were pleasant and I could never tire of looking at him.

"I'm not being kind," he said firmly. "I'm being honest."

"Vash," I said softly, quickly checking with my left hand, by feel, to make sure the towel I held still covered my chest (and finding to my infinite relief that it did), "I know that I'm no beauty. I never was. And I'm 52 this year, a bit past my prime. My daughters are biased... they love me too well to fully realize how much I've begun to age. I can only imagine that your eyes would see more clearly."

His eyes that are so beautifully expressive, in a face that is eternally youthful... I suppressed an impulse to sigh.

"My eyes see a friend," he said, still looking directly into my eyes. "One whom I've valued and trusted for many years. One for whom I'm worried, because if her daughters try matchmaking games like this with someone else, she might find herself in trouble."

"They wouldn't send anyone else in like that," I said. "They know..." it was suddenly very difficult to continue looking into those gentle, trusting eyes. I felt more heat in my face, but I couldn't lie to him under these circumstances. "I hope I never betray your trust," I said, barely above a whisper. "Even though I've never said anything, they know... they know that I'm fond of you. I... failed to conceal that from them."

He looked surprised. "There were a few times," he said thoughtfully, "when you said or did something very kind, and I thought that maybe, perhaps, you might care about me, just a little. But... don't _you_ find _me_ disgusting? I'm... kinda messed up." He gestured at his body with his left hand as his cheeks turned rosy.

My fingers on his face moved slightly in a gentle caress. "Do you mean your scars?" I asked. I saw the answer in his eyes. "It hurts my heart to see or think of them, to know how much pain you must have suffered," I said softly.

"But those same scars also remind me of what a beautiful, gentle heart you have," I continued. "I know that you could have avoided ever getting a single scar. All you had to do was harm others. The fact that you chose not to do harm, that instead you protected others - even when it meant injury to yourself - that makes your scars almost as beautiful to me as you are."

He blinked, and his eyes filled with tears. His chin quivered slightly, and I knew he was about to cry. Before he could say anything, I spoke again.

"I know you are lonely, Vash," I said gently, again caressing his face with my fingertips. "The cruelest thing that I - or any other ordinary human woman - could possibly do would be to provide a temporary cure for your loneliness."

His brows drew together, indicating that he was puzzled, as the first of his tears spilled onto his cheeks.

I continued. "I may only live twenty more years," I said gently. "But even if I live another fifty years, it would be only a very short time to one of your race. After I was gone, you would be even lonelier than you are now. The way your memory works, I expect you'd never feel right about finding somebody else. You'd continue mourning, alone, year after year after year. Am I right?"

He blinked again, and the expression in his eyes changed slightly as he briefly looked inward. Tears continued to spill silently down his cheeks. "I still mourn Rem," he said very softly. "She died on the day of the great fall."

"That's what I thought," I said, as gently as I could. "Vash, you deserve something better than a temporary solution that leaves you in worse pain. A permanent cure requires a lady of your _own_ race, not an ordinary, short-lived human like me. I'm so very sorry, my dear friend. I cannot be what you need."

"You," he began, and then swallowed hard. "Do you... is it possible that..."

I saw a pain-filled blend of hope, longing and pleading in his eyes. Some instinct told me that he desperately needed to hear the words that I had buried in the deepest place in my heart. I couldn't speak them, at first. After several heartbeats had passed, though, I did manage a whisper.

"Yes, Vash," I whispered. "I love you, and I probably always will." I did my own hard swallow, as I looked into his wondering eyes, before I could speak again. Even so, my voice was barely above a whisper and choked with emotion. "But we can only be friends."

I watched his transparently honest face display a brief joy, and then a painful longing, and finally a mournful expression of loss.

"Please don't take it like that," I said, finding tears spilling down my own cheeks. "I never wanted to hurt you."

"You haven't, not really," he said, his gaze turned inward again. He shook his head, very slightly, but not nearly enough to shake my hand off his face. "No; mostly you've given me hope."

"First Rem, and then Meryl, and now you..." Suddenly his expression changed as he realized something. Again, he was looking at me instead of looking inward to consider his own thoughts and memories. "No, that's not right, is it? You... you loved me, even before Meryl ever met me, didn't you?"

I nodded.

"It was different with Meryl, anyway," he said thoughtfully. Again, he was looking inside of himself, instead of at me. "Perhaps because she was so young, she mostly thought of what she craved. She was lonely, and I was there. She wasn't thinking about what it would do to me, or perhaps she didn't know enough to guess."

He continued, still speaking softly. "I was so lonely that I thought about trying it with her, for a little while. When I realized that what _she_ really wanted was an ordinary human man, whether she'd fully realized it yet or not, I pulled away from her. That way, she could find what she really wanted, or needed."

His eyes changed expression as he looked through them at me again. "You, though... you think of me, first, don't you?" he said, as if still half-disbelieving what he was saying.

"I had some help," I admitted. Honesty was especially important, right now. "Uncle made me see the high price of selfishness very clearly. I have fought to overcome that fault ever since."

"Doc knew?" Vash said, surprised. "He never let on."

"No," I said softly. "He wouldn't."

"You're right," he said thoughtfully. "He wouldn't."

He sighed, the faraway look again in his eyes. "I always thought the best I could hope for was a 'mayfly' experience," he said. "A few hours - or a day - of joy, that would vanish forever... to become only a treasured memory."

Then he looked at me again. "But if someone like you could love me, this much, then maybe it could happen again. If you're right, then maybe, next time... maybe she might be a plant. That... could be nice."

I was relieved beyond words that he found hope from my confession. It was time for a change of subject... and past time for a different kind of change, too. "I should get dressed," I said, feeling heat in my face again.

His face reddened, also. "Of course," he said, and he was again at the doorway with his back turned. It happened so swiftly that he almost seemed to blur.

I wasted no time. I quickly slipped into some underthings and threw a dress on over my head. I pulled the skirt hem down to its proper place, put on socks, picked up my boots, and sat back on the edge of my bed. "Okay," I said. "You can turn, if you wish. I'm decently covered."

He did turn. "Your girls..." he began, and it sounded much more like a question than a statement.

"They don't have a human father," I admitted as I pulled on my boots. "They were conceived by injection, in a laboratory. Some people might call them an experiment. To me, they are my own beloved daughters and the unusual way they began doesn't make any difference. I would do anything for them. My daughters are the brightest part of every day, and I treasure them. They're both very special people."

"They're part plant, somehow, aren't they?" he said. "They aren't aging like ordinary humans, and I can feel their emotions better than other people's. Though, I feel theirs less strongly than I feel Shyla's or... other plants."

"Yes," I said, and quickly continued before he figured out anything else. Both of my boots had been pulled on, so I straightened and looked at him directly. "The doctors say that my girls will probably live somewhere around 400 to 600 years. I wanted there to be someone here who would still be your friend, long after I was gone. It's one reason they look toward you like a father figure, craving your approval almost as much as they crave mine. There aren't many plants outside of bulbs that they know, or can interact with."

"You were thinking of me, when..." His face had "astonishment" written all over it in large, bold lettering.

"I was also thinking of myself," I said, smiling at him. "I wanted children, very much. However, I couldn't bring myself to marry a man that I didn't love. So I chose an option that let me do something for the one that I do."

"Thank you," he said, barely above a whisper. "You are more like Rem than I'd ever realized." Then he looked uncertain, and spoke less softly. "Does this mean... are we... can we be 'hugging friends' now?"

I nearly laughed at this picture of the legendary Humanoid Typhoon being so very shy about asking for a hug.

Somehow, I avoided giggling and only smiled. "Not in public," I said, after briefly thinking about how best to answer his question. "I do have a reputation as a councilwoman to maintain, you know. I can't be seen to play favorites."

His face brightened, and he made a smile that reached his eyes. "Okay," he said, and opened his arms.

I stood and stepped into his embrace. As I hugged him, for the first time since I was a very small child, I noticed the scent of the desert winds on him. He'd become so much a part of this world, and this world so much a part of him, that even his scent was affected.

"Thank you," he whispered as he released me.

"Thank _you_," I said, smiling. "Now I need to have a very serious chat with two young ladies of your acquaintance, and you should probably go see your bashful friend. She may panic if she wakes and finds that you're not there."

"Take care of her, please," he said softly. "I've lived next door to her and her mother for so many years... I'm going to miss her. She may miss me, too, after I go."

"I'll do my best for her," I promised, "the same as I do for my own girls." I already knew that Shyla would miss Vash. How could she not?

"Thank you again," he said. "And you're right. I should go to her before she wakes." He nodded politely, bid me good day, and then turned and walked briskly away.

I stood there, still half-disbelieving what had just occurred. Suddenly, I fully realized that I was standing in my own _bedroom_. He'd been in there with me for at least a quarter of an hour... and most of that time, I'd been nearly naked!

The impropriety of those circumstances brought fresh heat to my face. If anyone ever found out...

"Lumia! Larissa!" I called. "Come here this _instant!_"

They had both earned the scolding of a lifetime, and I was _more_ than willing to give it to them.

...

_Lisa skipped the details of that scolding, since the first few words reminded her uncomfortably of a scolding that she'd recently received. She continued reading about what happened afterward..._

...

We were almost too late, when we arrived at the cable-car platform. I had been compelled to keep after my girls longer than I'd expected, to help them see the errors in their behavior earlier this morning. I'd considered commanding them to stay home, instead of coming to see Vash off, and the threat had done wonders.

In the end, however, I could not in good conscience deprive them of any opportunity to see or spend time with their father.

I learned later that Vash had been acting almost as if he were dawdling. He'd spent nearly half an hour simply visiting with everyone, and asking them to help Shyla settle in and learn her way around.

We saw him at a distance. He was difficult to miss, since he'd again put on his red coat. We moved toward him, through the crowd that had gathered. Shyla was in tears, and clinging to his left arm.

When he saw us, he reacted with a smile that brightened his whole face. To me, that felt a lot like seeing the clouds part on an overcast day, when they allow the brilliance of both suns to shine through. His complete smiles, the ones that are more than just a reshaping of his mouth, always feel like that to me. When I might be the cause, his full-face smile always moves me so deeply that I nearly want to cry.

I smiled back at him, as I always did when I saw him smile that way.

He politely moved past a few people to shake hands with me and my daughters, still smiling that beautiful smile.

"Thank you," he said again. Then he gently disengaged Shyla from his left arm, and put her hand into mine. "Take good care of her, please. I know I can trust you to do this."

I nodded. My heart was too full for words. I put my arm around the weeping plant girl, trying to comfort her. The same pain was in both of us. I didn't like to see him leave, either. Yet it was a pain we both must bear.

Vash backed away from us and raised his hand. Everyone quieted down. "Thank you, friends," he said, looking briefly at every face in the crowd. "I'm sorry that I can't stay longer, this time. I really do need to go. I'll try to return soon, though. Take care of yourselves!" He waved a farewell, with a partial smile that made his mouth look cheerful, but failed to brighten his mournful eyes.

People started saying farewell and waving as he stepped into the cable car. As it began to take him away, he continued waving... though, unless it was only my imagination, he spent more time looking at Shyla and me than at anyone else.

Brad was there, with his family. He was waving, and shouting farewells along with everyone else. He looked a bit sad, as most of us did.

Jessica, however, looked angry.

I would definitely have to watch Jessica, as part of keeping my promise to Vash. I couldn't take care of Shyla properly, if I failed to protect her from an unaccountably jealous woman who viewed her as a rival.

I stayed there, with everyone else, until Vash's cable car reached the other side. It stopped, and his distant figure was seen to disembark and walk away.

The crowd slowly began to disperse.

I still had an arm around Shyla's shoulders. "Try not to cry too much," I said. "He will return. He always does."

She nodded, but the poor girl was too choked with tears for words.

"I know," I said softly. "I'll miss him, too."

Shyla, my girls and myself were the last to leave.


	5. Shyla

**Author's Note:**_ Mangaverse - post manga._

**Disclaimer:** _I don't own Trigun [Maximum], or Vash, or any of the other characters in the series. I only borrow, with respect - and without any money involved._

...

...

**Shyla**

_Lisa continued reading_...

...

Part of me wanted to continue standing there, watching the empty cable car platform, until sunset. I guess I partly hoped that Vash might think of something he had forgotten and return, even if only for a few minutes. I knew I was being foolish. If he forgot something, he would either find a replacement or else find a way to continue without it until the time when he'd already planned to return.

I hugged Shyla against my side, and said gently, "Have you eaten lunch yet? You'd be welcome to join my daughters and I."

The girl had been trying to calm herself down. She hadn't entirely stopped crying, but she was able to speak. "I... I'd made lunch for Vash, but... but he thought he should leave be... before eating. He... he took some of it with him... but there's still enough... for all of us, if ... if you want to come." Her voice grew fainter. "Please," she said, almost as a whisper.

"Of course we'll come," I said. "Lumia, Larissa, we've been invited to lunch."

"Thank you," Lumia said politely, though with a hint of a little awkward bashfulness.

"I am getting hungry," Larissa admitted. She looked a little awkward and uncertain, too.

I hadn't cooked anything, nor had they, since the entire morning had been used up by the lecture those two had so thoroughly earned. I still was uncertain if they fully understood _why_ what they did was wrong, though I believe I was sufficiently clear _that_ they had done wrong.

A change of scene would be welcome for all of us.

I turned toward Vash's ... ah, toward Shyla's house, still keeping my arm around her.

"I hope you three will become good friends," I said. "You have something in common, that nobody else here can ever fully understand."

"What's that?" Lumia asked.

Larissa looked inquisitive, suddenly seeming nearly as bashful as Shyla.

"Technically this is a state secret," I warned, "but Shyla, you'll probably detect it sooner or later anyway. So there's not much point in trying to hide it from you. However, I still expect all three of you to keep quiet about this, except among ourselves, or with Vash, when no one else can overhear. Understood?"

I waited until I received acceptable responses of understanding and agreement from all three, before I continued.

"None of you are mere, simple, ordinary humans like me," I said. "Shyla, you should know that my daughters, Lumia and Larissa here, are half plant. We had some samples of Plant genetic material that were used to make me pregnant, and our whole village has been blessed by my daughters because of this. Their biggest challenge in life, poor dears, is the need to deal with their pathetically limited mother."

"That's not -" Lumia began.

"No, it's -" Larissa sputtered.

Shyla almost giggled... I could feel it in the way her body tensed as I held her in my arm against my side.

"We love you!" Lumia finally managed to say, with Larissa echoing the same words so closely that they were nearly in unison.

They both managed to hug me, without dislodging Shyla from under my left arm.

"I love you two dearly, also," I said warmly. "I hope you'll forgive me when I get a little frustrated because you did something that I don't understand. You're both so smart... I tend to forget that there are a few things you still don't know yet."

"Of course we forgive you!" Lumia said.

"We couldn't stay angry at you even if we wanted to," Larissa added.

"Thank you," I said to them.

Lumia and Larissa both turned their attention toward Shyla.

"So, are you a half-plant also?" Lumia asked.

"No," Shyla said softly, after the space of several heartbeats. "I'm not lucky enough to have any real human blood."

I almost imagined that I could hear echoes of Vash's voice in her words. I'd heard him speak on the subject in the past, so I knew that he considered himself inferior to "ordinary humans." Perhaps if I could help Shyla to overcome that ridiculous idea, she might eventually be able to help Vash do the same.

"Nonsense," I said firmly. "Plants are human too. You're just a slightly different kind of human. If that were not true, neither Lumia nor Larissa could exist. There are differences, yes. Nonetheless, we're all equally human."

"You mean," Lumia said, wide-eyed, "you're completely a plant ... like Vash?"

Shyla shook her head. "I'm not as good as he is," she said softly. "But yes, I'm only a plant."

"There has not yet been time to discuss this with the Council," I said, "though I'd imagine, for a time at least, Shyla's heritage will also be a state secret. Again, that means we can only discuss this among the four of us, or with Vash, when nobody else is able to overhear."

Again, I waited for three indications of understanding and agreement before I spoke further.

"If I understand correctly," I said, looking toward Shyla, "you were born in the same year as Lumia." I gave the number of the year after the crater first appeared in the fifth moon.

"I was... yes, I came to be late in September of that year," Shyla said.

"I was born early that April," Lumia said excitedly, "so that means I'm older than you!"

"Aww, I'm still the youngest," Larissa complained.

I smiled, pleased that they seemed to be making a good beginning. "There are worse things to be than the youngest, dear heart," I said. "You might be like me, the oldest!"

Even Shyla laughed a little at that.

By this time, we'd reached Shyla's house. My daughters were familiar with the place, since I'd recruited them to help with various chores during its refurbishing.

I let go of Shyla so that she could unlock the door. She fished a moment in her jeans pocket, and then brought out the key and opened the house for us.

"It may be messy," she said apologetically, "since we hadn't known anyone might come today. But I don't have..." her voice quavered a little "_his_ appetite. Food is always best eaten while it's mostly fresh."

"We will be happy to assist you in that matter," I said. "And please don't worry too much about perfect housekeeping. We know that you only just arrived, and that he ... well, he always leaves a large hole behind, when ever he goes away."

Shyla briefly looked at me thoughtfully. After a few heartbeats she nodded, and then led us in. There were a few dirty dishes on the kitchen counter, about enough for one person to have eaten. There was also a plate with untouched food on the table... hers, I would guess. Perhaps she would be able to eat with us. I hoped so.

Lunch might have been much more awkward, if the cooking had not been so good. That gave us all plenty to talk about.

Little by little, we drew Shyla into talking about herself. We learned how she had worked in the café with Naomi and Vash for most of her life. A little more than two years of travel in the desert had somewhat blunted the pain and grief over Naomi's death, but she still missed her terribly.

I was sorry to learn that Naomi had been in her seventies when she found Shyla as a newly-formed baby. I found myself wishing that Shyla had come into being twenty or thirty years sooner, so that she could have enjoyed more time with the one she called her "human mother."

Her plant mother had, perforce, been left behind when she and Vash began their journey here. Shyla missed her, too, but in a different way. They were more like friends, and visiting the plants in the ship, yesterday, had greatly helped to ease that ache.

"Plants in orbs are different from Vash and myself," Shyla said softly. "They know that they are taking care of people, but the individuals they care for are almost peripheral to them. It's not that they're unaware of people moving around them; it's more like they don't usually focus on specific persons unless one of those specific persons does something to catch their attention. Naomi caught her attention by always talking with her, every night, while she cleaned the place."

"It still took her several years," Shyla continued. "When she started paying attention to Naomi, she noticed that Naomi was very lonely. I think... I don't know, but maybe... that might be why I... happened." She blushed and fell silent.

"Then I'm very glad that your plant mother sensed her loneliness," I said, suspecting that I heard many words implied that Shyla hadn't said. This bashful girl, who seemed to undervalue herself about as badly as Vash undervalued himself, might be wondering if she'd outlived her purpose. "If your plant mother hadn't sensed that longing in Naomi, and hadn't made you, then neither Vash nor we would have the blessing of knowing you."

Shyla startled at my words, and looked at me with wide eyes. Then her blush deepened, and she looked down. "Thank you," she said, so very softly that I almost had to see her mouth's movements to be sure of her words.

I glanced at my daughters, and saw from their expressions that they were "tuning in" on Shyla's emotional echoes. They looked at each other, and nodded. Then I saw them both smile. Lumia reached out a hand and laid it on Shyla's forearm, and Larissa spoke. "We're glad to know you, too," she said.

I have sometimes suspected my daughters of sharing telepathic communication. This was another occasion during which I suspected it was happening. I made a mental note to watch them more carefully, and perhaps ask them about this. I would need to be cautious about asking, if I chose to ask them, since it would be far better if they chose to tell me without feeling pressured to give an answer.

Shyla looked up briefly, long enough to smile, and then she looked down again. Her fair complexion still showed bright pink from her hairline to her ears to as far down her neck as we could see.

This plant-girl's forehead and pale grey-green eyes are wide, though her face gently slopes down to a narrow, almost pointed chin. Her narrow, almost delicate nose is slightly turned up at the end, and her mouth is narrow with moderately thin lips. Somehow, she reminds me of a picture I'd seen drawn in an old story book that was labeled "a pixie."

By contrast, my own girls' faces display stronger features. Their faces are longer, and though still narrow at their chins, somehow the overall effect isn't so triangular. Their noses are moderately wider, their cheekbones slightly more prominent, their lips slightly fuller, and their mouths are a bit wider than Shyla's.

Their skin tone is a balance between their father's fair complexion and my own more swarthy, olive-toned skin. While Lumia and Larissa are nowhere near to being identical, they do display a strong family resemblance.

Perhaps the most immediately noticeable difference is their eyes... Lumia's eyes, like mine, are such a deep muted green that they almost appear brown; though her eyes are shaped much like her father's. Larissa's eyes are a slightly darker shade of the same color as her father's, though her eyes' shape more strongly resembles mine.

Larissa's hair, like Shyla's, is nearly the same color as Vash's was back when he was blonde. Lumia's was nearly that color when she was very small, but her hair has gradually become a much deeper golden hue that, in my very biased opinion, suits her better.

Both of my daughters seem very cheerful and light-hearted, most times. However, partly from knowing their father, I know them better than that. None of the three are nearly as carefree as they appear to be, if one only glances at the surface.

Lumia, especially, has shown herself to be nearly as deep a thinker as her father. If given enough time, she may one day equal his depth. I have already begun training her, subtly, to work closely with the Council. Barring unforeseen circumstances, she will one day take my place among them.

The silence was growing awkward, I realized, shaking myself out of my musings. Seeing that everyone had eaten, I said, "Well, let's get the dishes done and then you two can go to work, and Shyla and I can go to the infirmary."

Lumia and Larissa looked askance at me. I raised an eyebrow at Lumia, who shouldn't need to ask. "What is the established medical protocol, when someone returns after a lengthy journey away?" I asked in my best "schoolteacher" tone.

"A physical," Lumia said, and then blushed.

"Exactly," I said. "Same protocol for newcomers."

"But Vash didn't..." Larissa began, and then stopped.

"We'll get him next time," I said mischievously, "even if I have to tie him up and make you three carry him into the infirmary to get it done."

That idea made every one laugh, and broke the tension nicely.

...

_Lisa mostly skipped the descriptions of the clean-up, though some of the banter among them as they tended the dishes did make her smile. _

_She also skipped most of the information about Shyla's medical check-up. She briefly summarized it in her mind: Luida got a fairly thorough check-up first, and then Shyla bashfully went through the same procedures plus an energy reading being taken (because she was a plant). At the end, both were given a clean bill of health._

...

As I walked Shyla back toward her house, I asked, "So, was there anything you especially wanted to do this afternoon?"

"No," she said, "but there was something Vash asked me to do. It doesn't have to be today, but it probably should be done soon."

"What would that be?" I asked, curious.

"I'll show you when we get to the house," she said.

That didn't take long. She led me into her room, and picked up a small leather pouch on one bedside table. Her first impulse was to clutch it to her chest, but she wrestled with herself and won. After only a few heartbeats, she held it out with trembling hands and began to loosen the drawstrings.

She poured some of the contents into her open hand. "These make apple trees," she said softly. Her chin quivered and her eyes were moist. "He wants them planted."

"This cannot be done quietly," I decided. "The whole village should take part, since these seeds are a gift from Vash. You can keep the pouch; I'll speak with the council about the best place to plant the seeds. I have a few ideas of my own; but for something this important, I should get their input. It would at least be courteous, if nothing else."

She nodded and gently poured the seeds back into the pouch. When she'd again tightened the drawstrings, she carefully placed it back on her bedside table.

I'd put double-wide beds into both bedrooms, recalling that Vash sometimes sprawled out when he slept. Shyla was around half a head shorter than he. Perhaps she had already reached her full height... though she had yet to round out, or show any feminine curves. The poor girl was as thin as a fencepost.

A skirt might help... "Do you have any dresses or skirts," I asked, "or do you not like to wear those?"

"I had to leave them behind," she said. "They weren't suitable for walking across the desert. I used to wear a dress to church and skirts when I worked around the café, though jeans when Vash had me play with the children with him, and when cleaning around the power plant machinery."

"In that case," I said, smiling, "perhaps we could go shopping to restore your supply of dresses and skirts."

She sat on her bed and opened the drawer under the pouch. She had there a small supply of double-dollars. "Will this be enough?" she asked. "I still need to buy some fresh foods, if there are any to be had. If it's not enough, I can wait... I'm not pretty enough for new clothes to make much difference. Tell me what I can do to earn more, and I'll do my best."

_Not pretty enough_... I knew that feeling, all too well. Although I wanted to, I could not honestly disagree with her. There was nothing wrong with any of her features, yet somehow they did not add up to "pretty." Her plain face was pleasant enough, but beauty was not a thought that naturally came to mind when one saw her.

Thankfully, somehow, both of my daughters _do_ qualify as pretty. Not outstandingly gorgeous, I know, but pretty. They must have inherited that from their father, since it certainly did not come from me.

Young Shyla, with her wide solemn eyes, didn't have that.

"Let's get you a dress or two for church, at least," I said. "That will be my welcoming gift to you."

"I'm not Vash," she said softly. "I won't be going away, or saving everyone, like he does. Please, don't give me anything that should belong to him."

Shyla's eyes didn't speak to me the way Vash's did, but they were not silent either. I tried to make light of it. "He'd look rather strange in a church dress that was sized to fit you," I said, smiling.

She opened her mouth, her expression suggesting that she meant to protest, but I gestured for silence. "I know what you mean," I said. "However, you are as much his gift to us as the apple seeds in that pouch. To me, especially, you are at least equally precious. This offer is for you - not him."

I sat beside her on her bed, and put an arm around her in a way I hoped she would find comforting. "And, honestly, he _would_ look very funny in a dress like that."

She finally relaxed, and snickered. "Yes, I can imagine that he would," she said softly. Shyla looked up at me with eyes that were less overwhelmingly solemn. "Are you sure?" she asked.

"I'm sure," I said with gentle firmness. "Shall we go see what we can find?"

"Okay," she said, and smiled in a way that lightened my heart at least as much as it brightened her own.

Shyla wore her long blonde hair bound back in a single braid that stretched down her back and a double hand's-width beyond her waist before the tie, and at least another double hand's-width of tail beyond that. A different hairstyle might be more flattering on her, but I didn't want to appear critical. I might suggest an alteration there, later. For today, we would focus on new clothes. Those should make a good beginning.

I took her to the same shop where I most frequently buy clothes for myself and my daughters. The shopkeeper greeted me warmly, knowing that I rarely left her shop without making some kind of purchase. I responded amiably, and encouraged Shyla to explore the shop and see what she could find that she liked.

She began walking slowly, at first barely touching the fabrics of the various garments hung upon the racks. Little by little, she showed more interest - especially when she saw things with blue-green and aqua colors. Abruptly, I realized... her favorite hue is the color of Vash's eyes.

My heart warmed further toward this bashful young girl. He knows she's fond of him, but he probably thinks that her fondness is merely the fondness of a child toward a family friend.

He had not included Shyla in the list earlier today, when he mentioned that Rem, myself and Meryl had all loved him... at least, for a time. Unless I was very much mistaken, a day would come when he must add her to that list.

Yes, Shyla currently still has the body, and mostly the emotions, of a child. However, she also has the heart and mind of a plant. Vash still honors and aches for the memory of Rem, whom he'd known for less time than Shyla has known him. Unlike Rem, Vash was never a parental figure to Shyla.

It wasn't unheard-of for the "girl next door" to grow up and catch her neighbor's eye and heart. I wondered if that was going to happen again, between Vash and Shyla.

Again, I pulled myself out of my musings. I caught up with the young treasure that Vash had entrusted to my care. "Are you finding anything you like?" I asked.

She looked at me with a slightly lost expression. "I'm not sure where to begin," she said bashfully. "I like this color, but I don't know what style or size I should try." She held up a blouse that would exactly match Vash's eye color.

"I like that color too," I said so softly that no one else could hear, "possibly even for the same reason. I wish it looked better on me than it does. It should suit your skin tone better than mine, though. As for sizes and styles..." I considered briefly, and then led her to another section of the large shop.

"You're tall, but very slender," I observed aloud, carefully ignoring the flush in her cheeks. "This section should be near to the right size. Let's see how some of these look if held up in front of you when you stand by that long mirror over there."

I helped her find two dresses. One was aqua with white embroidery, and the other was a pale grey with aqua embroidery. Both suited her coloring reasonably well. Both had full skirts that reached halfway between her knees and ankles, and loose-fitting tops that would allow her some room to grow curves. The styling gave an illusion of a waistline, without overdoing it.

I also selected two petticoats, and persuaded her to choose two skirts, cut similarly to the skirts of the dresses. The skirts could be worn with the shirts she already had, when she didn't want to wear jeans. Then we picked a pale aqua blouse with some feminine details that could be worn for dressier occasions with either of the new skirts, or else with jeans.

I encouraged her to try on each item. They all fit her very well.

"This is too much," she said modestly. "I should work for a while first, and earn enough to make some of these purchases..."

"Nonsense," I said. "Vash would never forgive me if anyone teased you for wardrobe imperfections. He would be especially stern if it was within my power to correct the oversight, and I failed to do it."

"Vash has always seemed very forgiving, ever since I've known him," she said, sounding both confused and slightly defensive.

"I'm mostly teasing," I admitted, smiling. "The point is that he asked me to take care of you. I'm trying to do as he asked, because I want to make my friend happy. Please, let me do this... for him, if not for you?"

She flushed bright pink, and then she blinked several times. I saw moisture in her eyes, though she kept it from spilling onto her cheeks. "I will do anything for Vash," she said, at last, speaking very softly.

"Thank you," I said as I gathered all of our chosen purchases into my arms and began taking them toward the check-out counter.

September was only a week away, and now I know what size she wears in addition to her favorite color. My mind was already considering possibilities as I paid for the chosen garments.


	6. Settling In

**Author's Note:**_ Mangaverse - post manga._

**Disclaimer:** _I don't own Trigun [Maximum], or Vash, or any of the other characters in the series. I only borrow, with respect - and without any money involved._

...

**Settling In**

_Lisa barely scanned over the account of that evening, after Luida left Shyla alone in her new home. The diary recorded how Luida had a somewhat lengthy talk with her daughters, in a much more relaxed conversation, about appropriate behavior toward Vash._

_Later that same evening, according to the diary, Luida began talking with her daughters about ways to keep Shyla busy. Luida's stated goal was to keep Shyla busy enough that she wouldn't have too much time to miss Vash._

_Lisa sat back briefly. She leaned her head back against the wall, and closed her eyes. She thought that she could understand some of what Shyla was probably feeling, in those first few days after Vash went away._

_Lisa still missed her eldest brother, William, and had missed him ever since he moved out to his own house about a year ago. His working hours, as an apprentice and then junior plant engineer, had become very different from the schedule for the rest of the household. So when William began saving money, and later purchased a small house of his own, it had simply been the most practical solution to the problems that came from having different schedules. _

_It had taken her brother nearly eight years to save up enough double-dollars to buy his own house. During that time, various members of the family (sometimes, to her embarrassment, the culprit was Lisa herself) kept accidentally waking him up when he needed to sleep. It was hard to always remember about his different needs, so someone would frequently end up being too noisy. It didn't matter as much on his days off, but he had more days when he needed sleep than days when he didn't._

_Her brother's absence left a huge hole in Lisa's life. She still felt closer to him than to any other member of her family. She sometimes wondered if she would always miss him._

_Missing William was one of the reasons that Lisa had gone into the storage room when the current severe sandstorm trapped her indoors. She missed his warm humor, which could always make a stormy day pass quickly. Her overly practical mother, whom she loved dearly, would simply assign chores. As much as she loved her mother, that habit of turning every moment toward work constantly frustrated Lisa. _

_During a storm, she wasn't in the mood to do homework or housework. She was sixteen, and still preferred playing or daydreaming to working… even when her mother said that "not working" meant the same as " shirking."_

"_Maybe Mama has forgotten that there is more to life than work!" Lisa grumbled softly._

_She could hear the winds, still howling loudly outside. She knew that meant the storm had not yet calmed. Thankfully, Aunt Lumietta had come over for a visit just before the winds got out of hand. Her father's elder sister was her favorite aunt. Aunt Lumietta would be likely to help keep her mother occupied for a while yet. As long as her mother was not looking for her, Lisa should be able to continue reading undisturbed. She hoped that quiet would last for a while longer._

_Lisa found the diary intriguing, when it wasn't recording overly mundane things. She wondered if the plant girl named "Shyla" in the diary might have grown up to become the same woman who still lived in the village. If she recalled correctly, the plant woman named "Shyla" was living near to her older brother's house. Word was that Shyla had lived in that very house for more than 500 years._

_Lisa tried to picture the plant woman in her mind, based on her own memories. _

_Shyla did stand about half a head shorter than Nate (or Vash, since his name differs according to whom you talk to about him). Shyla kept her blonde hair in a long braid, though that long braid was often wrapped around her head. The woman's eyes were a pale grey-green, and her skin was fair. Her face even ran wide at the forehead, and tapered down to a narrow chin. Her narrow nose turned up a little at the end, exactly matching the description Lisa had read in the centuries-old diary._

_The "Shyla" that Lisa had seen around the village was a slender woman, with just enough curves to prove beyond any doubt that she wasn't a child. Lisa was inclined to agree that Shyla's features, though not unpleasant, did fall slightly short of "pretty." _

"_Shyla is one of those people that everybody respects... but nobody ever remembers to talk to," Lisa mused softly. "Well, except for Aunt Lumietta. And that might be mostly because they both work at the infirmary." Seeing Shyla tended to feel reassuring, because everyone knew her reputation for competence as a healer and physician. _

_Yet Lisa could not recall ever seeing Shyla invited to anyone's house in the manner that Nate _always_ was. Nobody ever seemed to get enough of Nate, including Lisa herself – she loved hearing his stories, and dancing or even playing games with him._

_Lisa tried to recall what she'd seen of Shyla's habits. The woman was generally quiet, though soft-spoken when she did speak. It wasn't unusual for Shyla to attend social functions. However, if Lisa recalled correctly, she was far more likely to be found sitting in a quiet out-of-the-way corner, or else helping out in the kitchen, than to be at the center of attention where Nate was usually found._

_Though, to be fair to Nate, others tended to flock toward where ever he was. Lisa realized that he was simply too tall to blend into a crowd, even if he wanted to. Because he came home so seldom, it was always a special occasion when he arrived._

_Lisa turned her thoughts back toward Shyla. In addition to being one of the village's top medical professionals, Shyla also ran a "convalescent house" where patients not quite sick enough to be in the hospital could stay quietly, until they grew well enough to return home and continue their normal lives. _

_Nate always stayed at Shyla's house, whenever he was in town. The gossips tended to make all manner of speculations about why that was his custom, but he had never confirmed any of their impertinent ideas._

_Nate and Shyla were clearly friends. Everyone knew that. They knew it simply from the facts that he did always stay at her house, and that she was the only person Nate ever allowed on his light-gun team during exhibitions. _

_If it wasn't an exhibition match, Lisa knew that Nate would insist on Shyla's playing on the opposing team "to help balance things out," as he would say. Lisa had to admit, as she recalled various light-gun matches she'd seen, that Shyla was almost as good with the light guns as Nate was. Both of them were better than anyone else she'd ever seen._

_Were these the same two people that Luida's diary talked about? Perhaps reading more would help her to know._

_Lisa returned her attention to the diary._

_She mostly skipped the immediately following week-days. During those few days, according to the diary, Shyla was tested for knowledge to determine what learning she needed. The girl was also encouraged to share picnic lunches and long walks with Luida and her daughters. _

_Lisa noted, as she scanned, that tutoring arrangements were set up and put into practice. Luida herself choose to be among Shyla's tutors - in fact, she set herself up to be the first instructor that Shyla would see each morning._

_She found it amusing when the diary mentioned one discovery. It seemed that Shyla could teach Larissa and the other plant engineers a few things about working with the machinery surrounding a bulb-plant. She knew things they didn't, because Vash had taught her so well before they set out across the desert toward the Village._

_Lisa continued reading more thoroughly when she reached descriptions of Shyla's first weekend in the Village…_

...

The council had agreed with me that Vash's gift of apple seeds should be publicly received and immediately planted. We discussed the matter of where, and chose a suitable place. I had asked Shyla how many seeds there were, and, from that number, we formed our plans.

The announcement went out on Friday afternoon that, mid-morning on Saturday, everyone should gather for a town meeting to receive a gift that Vash had sent with Shyla. Only the council, and Shyla, knew what manner of gift it was.

Having recognized Shyla's bashfulness, which was only gradually wearing off toward me and my daughters, I had not warned her ahead of time. I expected that she would grow more nervous, instead of less, if she had time to worry about making another public appearance so soon. So she knew nothing, until the announcement was made.

I had arranged to be with her at the time the announcement was scheduled to be given. "You did say the seeds should be planted soon," I said, laying an arm across her shoulders and squeezing her gently. "You can wear some of your new clothes, and it will be an opportunity for you to meet more of the people here."

She looked at me with wide eyes, her face showing her discomfort. "What if they don't want to meet me?" she asked nervously. "I'm not Vash. I will only disappoint them, if they hope that I'll be as good as he is. Already some people here don't like me at all."

"Nonsense," I said. "Nobody expects you to be exactly like Vash. You're a fine person as yourself, and people should realize that as they learn more about you." I smiled at her, hoping my expression seemed reassuring. "Vash clearly wanted everyone here to know you, and to respect you as his friend. They can't do that if they never see you or get acquainted, can they?"

"I suppose not," she said, blushing. "Accepting new clothes, that was easy. You picked such pretty things!" She smiled, still blushing. Then she looked down. "This, though, it will be harder. But I will do anything for Vash, no matter how hard it is."

"Don't let anyone fool you about what he wants, then," I warned. "Sometimes people have … odd senses of humor. They may try to play pranks on you, by suggesting that Vash wants you to do something that, in truth, he would never even consider asking of you."

"I've known Vash most of my life," Shyla said. "There were people in the town that we left, who tried pranks like that. I hope I won't be too easy to fool."

"Good," I said, relieved. "Most people here should be friendly toward you. There is one possible exception, and I'm watching her. If she misbehaves, I will deal with her."

"I wasn't meaning to get anyone into trouble," she said, looking both worried and forlorn.

"If she gets into trouble," I said, "that will be entirely from her own misbehavior."

She still looked nervous, so I continued. "If an individual would behave badly toward one person, then they may behave equally badly toward another. It's like a child with a bad habit – we want to teach them better behavior, before the bad habit becomes so much a part of them that it grows very difficult to break."

She nodded, looking thoughtful.

"We're a small enough village that everyone here is like family to each other," I added. "We don't want _anyone_ to feel uncomfortable, or worried that others here will mistreat them. We want everyone who lives here to feel comfortable with everyone else who lives here, as much as possible."

"What did I do, to make her so angry?" Shyla asked, concerned.

I hugged her against my side again. "Dear child, you did nothing wrong," I assured her. "Jessica used to daydream about marrying Vash. Even though she has married Brad in recent years, it seems that she still doesn't like for Vash to have any other female friends. She's just jealous, that's all. Hopefully she will grow up enough to conquer that fault within herself. If not, we will help her."

"Brad seems like a good-hearted person," she observed.

"Yes, he is," I said, smiling. "Their son seems likely to grow up with more of his father's disposition than his mother's, which may be a very good thing. However, Jessica may also be extra-grumpy just now from feeling sick… she's expecting again, and her body responds to that change by making her miserable until she gives birth."

"I'm sorry she's not feeling well," Shyla said softly.

"I'm sorry, too," I said. "For now, we'll try keeping the two of you apart. This should give her time to get used to the idea of another girl in Vash's life. We may also want to wait until she has her second child, and then do something nice for her. That may cheer her up enough that she'll forget to be grumpy toward you."

"I like that idea," she said, and smiled.

"Now, regarding tomorrow," I said, walking with Shyla toward her house, "which of your new clothes would you like to wear? We want you to hand out the seeds, one to each family. They will do the actual digging, planting, and watering. We decided that would be the best way for everyone to feel involved with the orchard, and to stay involved with keeping it healthy."

"And it also means I must meet everyone, at least long enough to give them an apple seed," she said shrewdly.

"Yes," I agreed, "It means that, too."

"Vash is very fond of everyone here," she said. "When we approached other towns, he often felt cautious and wary. But when we approached here, he felt warm affection. That stayed mostly the same, as he was shaking everyone's hands. He'd grown somewhat fond of some of the people in the village where we lived, but it usually wasn't this strong. So I know that you are correct: he would want me to know the people here and like them, just as he does."

"I hope there wasn't anyone here that he felt strongly less fond of," I mused. I hadn't meant to speak my thoughts, but it seems that I must have done so because she answered.

"If there was anyone he liked less, I didn't notice," she said. "He reacted to you and your daughters more like he did toward Naomi, my human mother. He was _very_ fond of her, and has mourned her almost as much as I have since she died."

"I'm sorry she didn't live longer," I said gently. "She seems to have been a very special person."

"She was," Shyla agreed.

…

_Lisa mostly skipped over that evening. The only things that happened were a little talk among Luida, Lumia, Larissa, and Shyla as they ate dinner together._

…

The next day dawned bright, with only enough clouds to be decorative. I caught myself wondering, again, as I dried off from washing myself, what the clouds on this desert world truly contained. It rarely rained unless we used technology to cause a brief, artificial rain.* Were they made of dust, instead of mist or ice? Perhaps I should ask some of the weather experts one day.

As I brushed out my hair, I discovered another silver strand shining among my darker ones. Did those grey hairs really appear overnight, or did they gradually fade all through the day and night while I wasn't looking, only to catch my attention the next day? I shrugged. That mystery might never be solved.

I wore a dress in my usual style, but of a more festive color – the pale aqua that both Shyla and I liked so well. With a grey scarf by my face, hopefully it wouldn't accentuate my sallow skin tones too much.

I could hear my daughters giggling as they helped each other with their hair and sashes. Ah, to be young again… I was glad, for them, that they would be able to enjoy their youth far longer than I had. I did not wish upon them the aches and weariness that come with growing older. I felt happy, and a little relieved, that they need not experience those particularly unpleasant parts of life anytime soon.

Together, the three of us went to meet Shyla. We had already planned to walk to the future orchard site together.

Our friend was wearing her new pale aqua blouse, with her new dark grey skirt, and a grey vest that she must already have owned. She had wrapped her long braid around her head, and tied a ribbon around her neck.

Her bangs, and assorted stray wisps of her golden blonde hair, drifted about her face in the morning breeze. That breeze was just brisk enough to bring pink to her pale cheeks. Shyla still fell slightly short of pretty, but she looked better than I had yet seen her look.

I smiled when I saw her. "I like what you did with your hair," I said. "I think it suits you better than leaving the braid down."

"I used to do it like this when going to church, or for other special occasions," she said. "Naomi used to say that it was a simple, yet effective, way to dress myself up a little."

"She was right," I said, happy for an opportunity to stir up a pleasant memory. "Have you brought the seeds?"

"Yes, I have them here," she said. She pulled the drawstrings of the pouch out of her vest pocket, but did not pull the pouch itself out. As soon as we had seen them and nodded, she tucked the strings back out of sight.

"Let's go then," I said. I linked an arm with hers, and Lumia took her other arm. Larissa took my other arm. We walked to the planned orchard site, talking cheerfully and smiling as we went.

As I'd hoped, we were early. The celebration committee was still scrambling to finish setting up the small platform from which some of the other council members would make speeches. Sadly, there were those among us who loved the attention of others … in my opinion, they loved that attention a little too well.

I don't enjoy the political side of being a council member; I joined mostly because that was my late uncle's wish. I stayed partly because of that, and partly because _someone_ needs to make sure that things get done. Thankfully, I had the valid excuse that Vash had entrusted Shyla to me specifically, so I should stay with her and not make any lengthy speeches today.

The three girls and I sat on the warm grass, watching the committee putting the finishing touches on the small platform and then watching the crowd begin to gather. Council members, Melro family, Garcia family, Reeve family, and others began to appear.

We snacked on biscuits with apple butter provided by the plants. Ere long, we might be able to make homemade apple butter. I wondered if that would taste any differently from what the plants provided.

It wasn't long before everyone had arrived. Curiosity had pried loose even our more bashful and reclusive residents. We were all very proud of Vash. Anything from him was automatically exciting, because of his involvement.

In this case, his gift was somewhat exciting on its own merits, too.

The trees would provide both shade and food, and a gathering place the whole village could be proud of participating in creating. This would be a historic day, chronicled and remembered for generations to come.

For me, it was enough to be part of it. Others wanted to use this occasion as part of an ongoing effort to make themselves remembered for all time.

The first council member with a speech to give climbed the few steps to the platform, called for everyone's attention, and began speaking.

Shyla and my girls and I all put on politely attentive expressions, and endured the necessary wait for the speeches to be finished. Then we could do the more important part.

We sat for nearly an hour in the morning sun, as the heat went from pleasantly warm to uncomfortably warm. At last, the speeches were ended and I led a reluctant but determined Shyla to the podium.

"Vash entrusted Shyla with the task of giving out the apple tree seeds," I said, gesturing toward her to make sure everyone saw who she was. "Each family will come to her, and receive a seed. Committee members have marked places to plant your family's seed. When you have planted and watered your seed, you may go home and enjoy your lunch."

That brief statement was greeted with more applause than all the long-winded speeches of my fellow council members. I stepped down from the platform and stood with Shyla, right in front of the podium. Other council members stood with us, some on either side.

Villagers began filing past, each family accepting a seed from Shyla's hand. She stood stiffly, which I knew was from being nervous. However, she was very gracious in her speech and smiles as she bestowed the seeds… even to Jessica, who made no effort to hide her sour expression.

It took another hour, and then some, for everyone to file past. They each needed to receive their apple tree seeds, and shake the hands of all council members. I would have excused myself from the line, except that Shyla was so nervous that she really needed a friend nearby.

When all of the villagers had finally finished parading past, the other council members each took their own seed, and went to the designated area to plant them. My daughters and I received the very last one.

"Would you care to come with us?" I invited Shyla. "Afterward, we can go to a café and celebrate. The cooking there may not be quite as good as yours, but at least it will be out of this heat and provide us with something cool to drink while we eat."

"Thank you," she said, sagging a little. "That sounds wonderful!"

…

_Lisa skipped the account of the afternoon, during which Shyla displayed symptoms of exhaustion from having been so nervous while meeting everyone in the whole village. Luida and her daughters had kept her with them, and finally walked Shyla home moderately late in the evening. They didn't want her to feel abandoned._

_Most of those details, aside from displaying a growing friendship between Shyla and Luida's family, were sufficiently mundane that they failed to hold Lisa's interest._

…

Sunday morning arrived clear and cloudless. It would be another hot day. Thankfully, the chapel was in the ship where the worst of the desert heat could not reach.

The first part of the morning passed much as the prior day's had, with listening to the happy chatter and giggling from my daughters as they helped each other with any part of their appearance that was difficult for the other one to see or reach.

When we were ready, we went to meet Shyla and accompany her to church. We weren't sure if she knew or remembered where the chapel was, and we wanted to invite her to sit with us.

She seemed mildly surprised to see us, yet also pleased. As I had imagined, she was wearing one of her new dresses – the aqua one. She had again wrapped her braid around her head, and tied a ribbon around her neck.

"Good morning," I said cheerfully. "I hoped you might like to attend church with us, at least this first Sunday."

"Thank you," she said, "I would like that."

Her state of readiness indicated she'd planned to attend anyhow. When she'd mentioned attending church, I wasn't sure if that was a regular thing or only on holidays. Since I was sincere in my faith, I always appreciated seeing what appeared to be the same sincerity in another. I was grateful that both of my daughters also chose to embrace the Faith.

"Let's go, then," I said, smiling.

She smiled back, and walked with us.

I had asked the preacher, earlier in the week during Shyla's second day with us, if he wouldn't mind mentioning that we had a new villager and welcoming her briefly after the service. His reply had been that he would consider it. Clearly, the sly fellow did exactly as he had promised me.

The songs and sermon were _all_ about welcoming in a stranger who came for shelter. Unless I imagined it, he was very slightly more passionate and eloquent on the subject than usual. I saw several heads nodding among those in attendance.

Jessica was a notable exception, though Brad was nodding along with everyone else.

Shyla, wise child that she is, figured out the reason behind the theme of the service, and blushed deeply enough that her face looked badly sunburned. I smiled at her, and gently squeezed her hand. She managed to smile back, but her blush didn't fade.

At the end of the service, the preacher added a mention of Shyla just before the benediction.

"As everyone should already know, our number has grown by one," he said. "Vash has entrusted us with the care of his friend, Shyla. He wished her to be treated like one of us. I hope that everyone will do their best to make her feel welcome and at home among us."

Even the benediction included thanks for Vash, and that anyone he brought to us would surely be a blessing, and thanks for Shyla's coming among us.

As everyone rose to depart for their Sunday lunch, I saw Jessica cast a dirty look at Shyla. I was unable to catch her eye, for Brad handed her their son just then and distracted her. He put away the hymnals and then took the boy back from his wife. They left without looking our direction again.

I suppressed an inclination to sigh. The plan of keeping Shyla and Jessica apart, at least until her second child had fully arrived, seemed the best approach. I hoped that Jessica would outgrow this childish jealousy, but I remained concerned that she might not.

I had also hoped that Shyla might have been looking in a different direction and missed Jessica's glare, but one look at the girl's face informed me that hope was unfulfilled.

"We should pray for her," I said softly to Shyla. "Hopefully, she will feel better in about eight months. Maybe then she will be more civil."

Shyla nodded. "I will pray for her," she said sadly.

…

_Lisa lightly scanned over the next two weeks, noting that a routine was forming._

_Luida's other responsibilities prevented her from being as deeply involved in Shyla's life as she had been that first week. Yet she remained one of Shyla's tutors, and saw her every morning. Her daughters, especially Lumia, continued socializing with the bashful girl when their jobs and other obligations allowed time for that._

_Yet Shyla still spent a lot of time alone in her house, when she wasn't getting lessons from her tutors._

_Lisa kept turning pages, until she saw something else that interested her enough to read it more thoroughl_y...

…

…

…

…

* in Trigun Maximum Volume 3 chapter 4, Vash used technology in Seeds Village to make it rain there. The brief rain he caused helped him to defeat a clever foe.


	7. Hopes and Tears

**Author's Note:**_ Mangaverse - post manga._

**Disclaimer:** _I don't own Trigun [Maximum], or Vash, or any of the other characters in the series. I only borrow, with respect - and without any money involved._

...

**Hopes and Tears**

_Lisa continued reading when she found the entry two days before Shyla's 25__th__ birthday…_

…

Just before Shyla came in for her morning lesson, there was a knock on my office door.

"Come in," I called.

Our chief postal worker entered. "This came in yesterday evening's mail," she said. "It's addressed to Shyla. We thought perhaps you might wish to see it first?"

"Thank you," I said, mildly puzzled. I accepted the envelope, and looked at the writing on it. "Oh, there's nothing to worry about," I said, smiling. "This is from Vash. He's only using another name to avoid trouble from that stupid bounty on his head. Any future letters from 'Nate Saverem' may be delivered without worry."

She appeared relieved. "I'm glad to hear that," she said. "I wish the earth people didn't monitor all radio transmissions so heavily. It would be nice to hear from him more often again. I'll let my senior employees know. The younger folk, they don't know him well enough for me to be sure they'd keep the secret."

"It sounds as if you have the situation well under control," I said approvingly. "Thank you."

"Anytime," she said, smiled, and left my office.

Only a few minutes later, Shyla arrived.

"Good morning," I said to her. "I have a surprise for you."

"Good morning," she said politely. Then she tipped her head to one side, and looked curious. "What surprise?" she asked.

I picked up the envelope and held it out to her. "You have mail," I said, smiling.

She accepted the envelope looking puzzled, but when she saw the writing on it her eyes widened. I think she recognized the handwriting before she even read it. "It's from Vash!" she said, her face a picture of delight.

"Why don't you open it and enjoy the contents while I finish this paper?" I suggested. "We can start lessons after."

"Thank you!" she said, and sat in the same chair she usually used for lesson time.

I found myself having difficulty concentrating on the task at hand. I was more curious than I liked to admit, wondering what he had sent to her. Although I managed to keep my head bent over my paperwork, my eyes strayed toward Shyla.

For the space of several heartbeats, she simply sat clutching the envelope over her heart. Then she placed it on her lap, on top of her books. She began, very carefully, to open it. She scrupulously avoided tearing through any of the handwritten words.

It seemed as if his very handwriting was precious to her, a sentiment that I understood far too well. I still had the envelope of the letter he'd sent to Lumia, so many years ago. It was carefully stored where no harm could come to it, because it held his handwriting.

Shyla's envelope contained a single sheet of paper. One side had a drawing of a nearby rock formation. The sketch was not highly detailed, as it only showed the general shape and the strongest shadows. Nevertheless, the image was immediately recognizable from where I sat behind my desk.

When she showed it to me, a short while later, I learned that the other side said, "I hope you will enjoy your new home. Happy 25th birthday. – Nate Saverem"

She tenderly laid the paper on top of the books resting on her knees, and then clasped both hands over her mouth. Tears filled her eyes.

I did not yet know what it said, so her reaction concerned me. Yet I did my best to concentrate on my paperwork so that she could have a measure of privacy. I silently yet sternly reminded myself that a letter to someone else – even if it _did_ come from Vash – was none of my business.

I turned my eyes back to my papers, until the sound of books hitting the floor drew my attention back to Shyla. She held her picture and its envelope in her left hand, while her right remained clasped over her mouth. Her books were in a chaotic heap at her feet.

I rose and moved around my desk, and hugged her. "What's wrong?" I asked.

"I miss him so much," she said.

I put my arms around her, and held her while she cried. She carefully kept her hand with the precious drawing and envelope well away from her tears, to preserve them from any possibility of growing damp and getting smudged. Her other arm went around my waist, and she buried her face against my body while she wept.

Much of our usual lesson time had passed before she calmed down enough to stop sobbing. Tears still streamed quietly down her cheeks. She slowly, almost reluctantly, extended the precious papers toward me. I accepted them, sat in the other chair, and examined them carefully.

My fingertips seemed to move of their own accord, reaching out to caress his signature. It was a kindly thought on his part, remembering her birthday and wishing her joy in her new home.

I looked up from the note to find Shyla examining me closely. "You love him too, don't you?" she said softly.

I nodded. I knew from long experience, with both Vash and with our daughters, that lying would be detectable. Any lie would severely wound trust. Thankfully, I had not been guilty of dishonesty toward any of them myself. However, I had seen others attempt to deceive them, and I had seen the way it made them shy away from that person thereafter.

"Is that why he trusts you so much?" she asked. There was no taint of jealousy in her manner, only concern and a very gentle curiosity.

"I don't know," I said softly. "I hadn't told him, and wouldn't have. Unfortunately, something that my daughters said made him ask, when he brought you here. I couldn't lie, not to him."

"Will you marry him?"

The question was asked with the same gentle curiosity as the earlier ones. Her eyes were unguarded, innocent of ill intent. Yet the question hurt, deeply.

I think she saw the pain in my eyes, for her face changed. "I'm so sorry," she said, reaching toward me and gently touching my forearm. "I didn't mean to…"

"It's not your fault," I said hoarsely, and tried to smile reassuringly at her. "He didn't ask, but even if he had asked… I hope that I would have been strong enough to decline. I'm old, Shyla. I can't give him enough time."

"Did… did you love him when you were younger?" she asked softly.

"Don't you know?" I said. "Plants, like you and Vash, can live at least several hundred years - perhaps even more than a thousand. Ordinary humans like me might, possibly, live to be one hundred. It would be unfair of me, or any other ordinary human woman, to try to win his heart. He would suffer too much, and far too long, after she died."

"He's so lonely," Shyla said softly, "I had hoped… but I didn't realize the difference between us was so much. Still, someone like you would be so very good for him…" She sighed. "I keep praying that someone will come into his life who can help his heart to heal, and cure his loneliness. I'll start asking that she also be a plant, too, so that he never has to lose her."

I couldn't help smiling. That had been my own prayer for many years. I considered for a moment, and then decided to speak out my own curiosity. "Maybe he will marry you one day," I said.

She immediately shook her head. "Oh no," she said. "I'm not nearly good enough for him. I have nothing to offer him. Besides, like you, I will die before he does."

I felt my brows draw together into a thoughtful frown. "What makes you say that?" I asked. She was over a century younger than he. Why would she expect to die first?

"I have seen it," she said, barely above a whisper. "A dream that comes at least once every year, as it has done for most of my life. It began two years after we found him collapsed in the desert outside our town. Some dreams are more than dreams, and I know this is one of those. It is a message that I must heed."

"Please," I invited, "tell me about this dream."

"The dream of my destiny?" she said, looking sad. "It is not pleasant."

"I would like to hear it anyway," I said gently, "if you are willing to tell me."

"Somewhere out in the desert," she said, staring at her own knees, "I am kneeling by Vash's side. He is lying on his back in the sand, gasping for breath. He is bleeding from many wounds. His eyes are pleading with me. As I place my hands on his body, I can feel his life slipping away. I must pour my own life into him, to save his life. I will die, but he will live."

Suddenly she was on her knees at my feet, clutching at my arm. "Please," she said, her pale, frightened eyes speaking more eloquently than her words. "Teach me how to do this? I don't yet know how, and I must learn. I cannot fail him, when the day comes that he needs me."

"If such a day comes," I said cautiously. "It might be only a dream showing one of your fears. It would be a terrible tragedy to everyone on this world, if Vash were to die."

She shook her head. "I have dreams like that, also. This one is different from those, and it is always the same. I must learn how to save his life, and pray that I will have the courage to do it when the time comes."

She looked away from my face, her expression troubled. "I'm so selfish," she said, her voice filled with pain. "I want to live, too. The idea of dying like that scares me more than I know how to say." Then she looked directly into my eyes again and said, "But I _will_ die for him, Luida. He's a better person than I can ever hope to be, and he's worth anything – even my life."

Her voice softened, and she looked away again. "I just hope that he will remember me kindly, for whatever short time he still remembers me. I can only imagine he'd forget me ere long… I'm not very memorable."

"I'm sure Vash would prefer it if you live, also," I said.

She shrugged in a manner that suggested she was unconvinced.

I carefully placed Vash's drawing, and its envelope, onto my desk. As soon as both of my hands were free, I bent forward and hugged her tightly. I was shocked by her words, to learn that this child could believe such a thing. I was also surprised that she loved Vash so very deeply that she valued his life that much more than her own.

However, she clearly didn't understand how his memory works. That misunderstanding, at least, I could cure with confidence.

"No matter what else happens," I said, "I can promise you that he will _never_ forget you. I know this partly because there are gravestones in our graveyard, where lie people he only met very briefly many decades ago. The stones are so weathered that the shallow inscriptions on them can no longer be read."

"Yet I have seen him walk through that graveyard, touching every stone, and saying the name of each person whose remains are buried beneath," I continued. "When asked, he can describe each person's appearance in detail."

"I checked the names against computer records with pictures, and his descriptions were perfectly accurate," I added. "Graveyard records proved that he was accurate about who was buried under each stone, too. If he can recall so clearly a person that he only met briefly, long ago, then he must be entirely incapable of forgetting someone he's known for twenty years."

"It's nice to think that he might remember me," she said softly as she confidingly leaned her head against my shoulder.

I was already growing fond of this shy young plant girl, in the short time that I had known her. This conversation endeared her to me completely – I began to love her nearly as much as I love my own daughters.

"We could begin adding medical science to your classes," I suggested. "Perhaps that would teach you what you need to know? Although, I still firmly believe that Vash would infinitely prefer to live without causing anybody else's death."

"He won't take my life," she said softly. "I will give it."

"He would still be happier if you live, too," I said. "Besides, medical training does take a lot of a person's life. Perhaps the dream is symbolic, and only means that you will spend your life in learning how to heal. That skill could, one day, save his life."

She lifted her head from my shoulder, and pulled away enough to look into my eyes again. She studied my face for the space of several heartbeats, and then finally said, "Perhaps. I like the idea of learning to be a nurse, or a doctor, or maybe even both. I like the idea of learning how to heal others."

"Then, beginning tomorrow, I will see about adding a medical course to your curriculum," I promised. "Today, our lesson time is used up. Tomorrow we can continue, dealing with the things we would otherwise have discussed today."

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said, looking a little startled as well as apologetic. "I've wasted your morning, when I should have been learning."

"Today it was my turn to learn," I said gently. "I learned more about my favorite student, so that I could help her better."

She tipped her head slightly to one side. "Aren't I your only student?" she asked.

"Details," I said indifferently, and made a throwing-away motion with my hands.

She smiled, a little.

"If we consider the possibility that your dream might be symbolic, and not literal," I said, "there is another possible interpretation."

"What is that?" she asked. Her eyes were still completely unguarded. Her heart was wide open to anything I had to say.

"What if the picture you see represents the many deep injuries to his heart?" I said gently, choosing my words carefully. "He may one day be in danger of dying from a broken heart, because his gentle heart has too often been wounded. When a person marries, the life they had before is ended. A new life begins, one that requires both people pouring much of themselves into each other. What if your dream means that he will one day want you to marry him?"

"I can't imagine him choosing me," she said softly, looking inward. "But if, somehow, he ever does want me that way, then he can have me. Completely."

I nodded. "These are just some ideas to consider," I said. "If the dream is a message, it _might_ be symbolic instead of literal. Your physical life may not be required to save him."

"I will still give it to him, if he ever needs it," she said.

I gently squeezed her shoulder, but felt it was high time for a change of subject.

"By the way," I said, "exactly when is your birthday? My girls dearly love birthday cake, so it might be fun if you joined us that evening so we could share some with you."

I deliberately used a strategy in how I expressed the question. I'd tried to get that information from her previously, but had failed. This tactic worked, unlike prior efforts.

"It's the day after tomorrow," she said softly. "Though I wasn't 'born' but found."

"Wonderful," I said, ignoring her reference to being found instead of born. "That will give us enough time to gather the ingredients. I hope you'll join us for dinner that evening?"

"That sounds nice," she said. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet," I said, doing my best to sound like I was giving a serious warning. "It hasn't been decided who will cook dinner or bake the cake. We could find ourselves eating something that gives us, well, surprising results."

"I could bake the cake," she offered, "as my gift to you for being such kind friends."

I had sampled enough of her cooking to be sorely tempted. However, it wouldn't do for the birthday person to make their own cake. "The next time one of us has a birthday, I'll take you up on that offer," I said. "This time, let's just have you come as yourself, ok?"

"Okay," she said, sounding a little uncertain.

"For now, you'd best go to a restroom and wash your face," I suggested, "so you'll be ready for your next tutor."

She nodded, collected her books and stood up. She placed the books on the chair, and then took the picture and envelope off my desk. She looked at them thoughtfully for a very short time. Then, with a trembling hand, she extended the envelope toward me.

"Oh I couldn't possibly," I said, though sorely tempted for the second time. "He sent it to you, not me. Perhaps one day he will write to me, and then I'll have both an envelope _and_ a letter to treasure."

She nodded, smiling slightly. She turned to the chair with her books, lifted the cover of the largest, and placed both picture and envelope into it before closing it again. Then she gathered her books into her arms, nodded a polite farewell, and left my office.

I sat quietly in the chair, thinking things over, for a long time after she left.

I recalled very clearly the expression in Vash's eyes as he bid us farewell, before climbing onto the elevator and leaving us to confront Knives for the last time. There had been a solemnity about him, even though he had joked with Meryl and tried to make light of it.

In the deepest part of my heart, where thoughts and feelings are too intense for words, I had known that Vash didn't expect to survive the battle.

Yet he had gone, without hesitation (although a little reluctantly), to sacrifice his life for those he loved – all the inhabitants of this desert world.

I'd just seen that same sad, resigned expression in Shyla's eyes when she spoke of dying for Vash.

Both of them wanted to live, not die. Yet each of them, at different times and in different ways, perceived a need. Both saw no other way to fill the need, except to give their lives. Both were willing, though clearly not eager, to make that ultimate sacrifice for the one(s) that they loved.

They were more alike than Shyla realized. Two gentle, giving souls, who would do absolutely anything for those they loved.

Love like Shyla's might be exactly what Vash needed. I felt as if, after nearly forty years, I was looking at the answer to my long-asked prayer that Vash would find a suitable plant lady to be his wife. Shyla needed to finish growing up, but she already loved him as dearly as I did… perhaps even slightly more.

I didn't know if it was selfishness or cowardice. I simply could not envision myself accepting the thought of dying for Vash, the way Shyla did.

I hoped that my final possible interpretation of Shyla's dream was the correct one – that she would give her life to him by way of marriage. Unfortunately, I had no way to know if that was or wasn't correct.

To my infinite relief and gratitude, my prayers that Vash would survive had been favorably answered. I began to make similar prayers for Shyla, along with redoubling my prayers for his continued safety and survival.

…

_Lisa skipped over how Luida contacted a few different doctors around the village, and finally decided to have her daughter Lumia begin tutoring Shyla in medical matters._

_Initially, Lumia would only teach Shyla about how the human body is put together, and how it should function. In time, she would teach about infirmary protocols, and how to help people heal when things went wrong with their bodies._

_Lisa read with more interest when Luida described shopping with her daughters for birthday gifts for Shyla. However, that section was brief. Nothing else interested her until the evening when they gathered to eat dinner and cake together._

…

I wasn't terribly surprised when Shyla arrived at our house wearing her everyday attire of a shirt, vest, and jeans tucked into her grey leather boots. Her braid hung freely down the center of her back.

The dear child didn't consider her own birthday special enough to dress festively for.

I was relieved that I'd encouraged my daughters to dress only in their better everyday wear. That meant Shyla was less likely to feel uncomfortable, at least not for dressing differently from ourselves. Hopefully, in years to come, she would view the occasion more positively.

Although it did make me wonder…

"You're just in time," I said, smiling and welcoming her in. "Dinner's nearly ready."

"Thank you, again," Shyla said. "I feel odd, not bringing anything."

"It's your birthday," I said, "the one day of the year when you should be able to be just a little lazy, without feeling guilty about it."

I winked conspiratorially at her, and she laughed. It felt good to see her smiling and laughing spontaneously like that. She'd been so solemn since we talked about her recurring dream. I led her to the sitting area, where we could wait comfortably for my daughters to finish preparing dinner. I gestured for her to sit, and then I sat near her.

"Out of curiosity," I said, "How have you usually celebrated your birthday?"

"Vash and Naomi would spoil me," she said, blushing slightly. "Neither one would allow me to work at all that day. They'd tell me to go outside, and sit in the sun or go shopping or do whatever else I liked, and enjoy the day. But I never knew what to do with myself."

She shrugged. "That evening, we would gather in our rooms above the café (Vash's room was too small), and it was usually decorated with a handful of brightly-colored ribbons. We had a cake, they sang a silly ditty, and then I had to blow out candles on top of the cake. Naomi usually gave me a new dress and matching hair ribbon. Vash would make a drawing, like the one that arrived two days ago."

"How did the drawing tradition begin?" I asked, intensely curious.

"I saw him doodling on a scrap of paper once, and complimented his effort," she said. "Then I bought him some drawing paper with my share of the café earnings, so that he could do more. I've never seen him look so surprised, before or since. After that, at my finding-day or at Christmas, he would make a drawing for me."

I smiled at her, and squeezed her hand. "It was good of you to get him paper, to encourage him. I'm happy for you, that it meant you get to have more of his drawings."

"I didn't know that he still had more of that paper," she said softly. "I sometimes wonder if he ever used any of it for himself, or only to give back to me. There were only seventy-five sheets, and now he's given me nearly fifty."

"Dinner's ready!" Lumia called cheerfully from the kitchen.

I rose to help them set the table, and Shyla came with me. She didn't seem to know how to be a guest, only a helper. Among us, we got the table set very swiftly and were soon eating and enjoying the meal.

My girls and I aren't as good at cooking as Shyla is, but we usually succeed in achieving edible results. This dinner was better than average, for my girls' cooking.

It went down cheerfully, amid much chatter and gaiety. The cake, likewise, came out well and disappeared with admirable speed.

Shyla's astonishment when we brought out her gifts was a picture. She admired, and – after some persuasion on our part – modeled each of her new outfits.

There was a deep blue dress with aqua trim, and a silvery grey dress with red trim (I had to get her something with what seemed to be Vash's favorite color on it), and an ivory blouse with a deep blue vest and skirt.

Thanks to the shopping trip shortly after her arrival, I knew what size, styles, and colors to buy. Everything looked very well on her.

She hugged each of us several times, and couldn't seem to find enough words to express her gratitude.

"This is such a big surprise," she said, again and again. "I don't know what to say besides 'thank you.' That falls so far short of how I feel..."

"You're welcome," Lumia said. "It was fun to go shopping for you, and to surprise you."

"You're welcome," Larissa said. "Mama picked well – they all look so good on you!"

"You're welcome," I said. "We're glad that Vash brought you to us."

I think we succeeded in giving her a happy birthday… or finding-day, as she called it.


	8. Letters

**Author's Note:**_ Mangaverse - post manga._

**Disclaimer:** _I don't own Trigun [Maximum], or Vash, or any of the other characters in the series. I only borrow, with respect - and without any money involved._

...

...

**Letters**

_Luida's descendant lightly scanned through several of the diary's pages, noting her ancestor's growing concern that Shyla didn't seem to be making other friends among the villagers._

_Yet the young plant girl seemed to be doing well in other ways. She took to learning like birds take to flight. She was, perhaps, too studious. Everything fascinated her, even if she had learned a few things about a subject previously; she still wanted to know more. She didn't just want to know all about each subject, either. She also wanted to understand. Any time Luida checked in on her, she would find books and schoolwork spread across the dining table and Shyla would be inclined to talk about whatever she was currently studying._

_Lumia and Larissa had been equally insatiable about learning when they were younger. However, after each one had chosen a profession and begun to work, that previously bottomless desire to learn had gradually faded away. Shyla still had it, though, and showed no signs of slowing down any time soon. _

_It had become customary for her to visit Luida's twice a week to give cooking lessons to Lumia and Larissa. She'd been kept involved in the weekly tending of the apple saplings. She occasionally played with the children, between lesson times._

_Yet aside from lessons, tending trees, attending church, and the occasional romp with the Village's children, Shyla kept entirely to herself. The girl spent nearly all her time at home, alone._

_One morning, when Shyla had been at the village for about two months, Luida was pondering what she could do about curing Shyla's isolation. It was nearly time to give the girl her daily lessons. Luida's thoughts were interrupted by a knock._

...

"Come in," I said. I glanced at my list of appointments for the day, which my highly efficient secretary had laid on my desk. None were listed for this hour.

"Good morning," the postmistress said cheerfully as she came in and closed the door. "This came in last night's mail, after you'd gone home for the evening. Since it's so unusual, I thought I should bring it to you, and learn what to do if another appears."

"Thank you," I said, reaching out to receive the letter she held up.

"Unusual" put it mildly. Each word was entirely drawn in the most basic version of capital letters that is possible. Some were imperfectly drawn, as if the writer was unaccustomed to writing. The name in the "from" section of the envelope was "Tumbleweed Jones." It had no return address, though it had a December post mark.

I opened one edge of the envelope and peered in. I could swear that my heart skipped a beat as I recognized the handwriting inside.

"Thank you, very much," I said softly. My heart was pounding, as if it were trying to catch up from the beat it recently skipped. "It's from a friend who travels a great deal. If another letter like this one comes, please bring it to me immediately."

"I hope it's good news," she said.

"I do, too," I said. "Thank you, very much, for bringing it to me."

"Any time," she said, smiling, and waved a kind farewell before she left my office.

He had avoided anything that might identify him on the envelope. I took that to mean he wished this letter to be private, and I was willing to abide by his wish in this matter.

The instant the door latched behind the cheerful postmistress, my letter – still inside its envelope – was held tightly against my chest. I don't recall any conscious choice to hold my letter like that. It simply happened.

I waited, trembling, for my heart and breathing to return closer to normal.

To have reached December in so short a time, he must have used transportation other than his own two feet. That was a risk, yet it was like him. In this, he reminded me of a small bird that I had read about on the computer... it would hop and behave as if it had a broken wing, to lure predators away from its nest.

In like manner, Vash had hurried away from us. He hoped that any trouble pursuing him would continue to pursue him, and leave us alone. Bless the man; he was always so concerned about everyone except himself!

I reminded myself that Vash must have taken extra time to make the writing on my envelope so completely anonymous. This suggested that he must be somewhere he thought he was safe, to have enough leisure to take such care with the writing's appearance. This should be a good thing. It should mean that the letter contains nothing to panic about, which made it unlikely he'd been either captured or injured.

Taking a deep breath, I made myself place the envelope on the desk and take out his letter. With trembling hands, I smoothed it out on my desk, preparing to read it.

I was interrupted by a knock and a familiar voice politely asking permission to enter.

I looked up at the clock, amazed. Had I truly spent twenty minutes simply holding Vash's letter? According to my clock, I must have.

"Come in, Shyla," I said. I pulled a random page from a pile of work that needed tending, and used it to cover Vash's letter.

She came in with her arms full of books, as usual. "Good morning," she said, and smiled at me.

I smiled at her. "Good morning," I said. "Please, have a seat and make yourself comfortable. We have a few things to talk about today."

She sat, and began to look nervous.

"Oh, don't worry, you've done nothing wrong," I said reassuringly. "I just learned last night that you had declined another invitation to join my girls and their other friends, because you said that you needed to study."

"Yes," she said softly, her eyes large with concern.

"Well, Vash did ask us to teach you everything," I said, "However, we don't need to teach it all to you this year. I think we will reduce the amount of homework we give you, so that you can have time to learn a few social lessons, also. Isolating you would be doing you a disservice. Vash wouldn't like that."

"I'm used to being at home," she said. "That's how I've always lived, with Vash and Naomi. I don't know what else to do."

"Which is exactly why we need to get you away from home a little oftener," I said. "It need not be every evening, but you should be getting out at least often enough that you will know what to do. Then you can learn what you do and don't enjoy, and choose activities accordingly."

"I don't even know how to begin," she admitted, flushing, as her gaze shifted to the floor.

"I would recommend a choir," I said. "We have two. There's the church choir, which you've already seen on Sundays. There's also a community choir, which does concerts about four times a year. They do mostly folk, seasonal, and silly songs, instead of concentrating on the sacred. You could join either or both, as a place to begin."

"Can I sing well enough to join a choir?" she said softly, still staring at the floor.

"You lack confidence," I said, "but otherwise you sound fine. It will give you something to do that includes an opportunity to both get out of your house and also to meet more people. Choir practice will give you something to do so that you're not merely standing around feeling nervous, and that activity will be something that's liked and enjoyed by all in attendance. Those things should help you know what to talk about with other choir members, at least as a place to begin."

"Tell me when and where to go," she said, with that "I'll do anything for Vash" expression on her face. "I'll do my best."

"I'm sure that you will," I said fondly.

"I'd appreciate it if you continue the cooking lessons with Lumia and Larissa," I added. "Some weeks, those are the only two afternoons when I get to see them, because they enjoy being out with their friends so much. Not to mention how your lessons have improved their cooking… that is also appreciated."

Shyla blushed more deeply. "I'm happy to help with what little I already know," she said.

"I'd like you to make one other change in your routine," I said, "and, for you, this one is likely to be the most difficult."

She looked at me nervously, but waited patiently to see what I would say.

"I'd like you to begin eating your lunch, on weekdays when you have lessons here, in the ship's mess hall instead of going home," I said. "Vash said that he wanted the people here to like you, but they can't do that if they never see you. I want you to be familiar to them. My daughters or I will join you when we can, but that won't be every day. Sometimes you'll be unaccompanied."

She sat very still for a moment, and then she swallowed hard. "May I wait until tomorrow to begin doing that, please?" she said.

"Of course," I said, smiling. "You probably hadn't packed a lunch for today, had you? Tomorrow will be fine."

"Thank you," she said softly.

"After you get used to choir and eating lunch in the mess hall," I said, "so I'm probably talking about sometime next year… I'd like you to join one more social group. You can pick whatever you please. We have recipe-trading groups, sewing groups, art groups, reading groups, gardening groups… some meet weekly, others only gather once a month. Look around, ask around, and choose at least one. Okay?"

"I will do as you ask," she said softly.

She wasn't frightened, though she was nervous. I could understand that. I was asking her to step well outside of her comfort zone. Yet it was the only method I knew to help cure her of her excessive bashfulness. She'd been among us for two months, long enough to learn her way around. It was time she began getting to know the people here, too.

Hopefully, making her more visible should end that nasty rumor someone was circulating. The idea that Shyla kept herself apart from everyone from an arrogant attitude that she was somehow better than us… it made me want to throw something.

If I ever learned who started that malicious rumor, I'd be likely to punch him or her right in their lying face!

Lumia had been angry when she told me about the rumor, and Larissa was shocked when she encountered it. Unfortunately, none of us had yet managed to track down the source. It seemed to be "what everybody was talking about" and nobody seemed to know where the idea had originated.

"Okay, now that we have that business tended, let's discuss your lessons."

Shyla seemed relieved as she opened her books.

…

_Lisa skipped ahead to the part where Luida finally found enough quiet time to read her letter from Vash._

…

My dear friend,

I hope that this letter will find you and yours all doing well.

I wished to thank you for being so frank with me the last time we spoke, but there was not enough time to say so then. I needed to go, and I trust that you understand why.

You and the others who live in that village are all very dear to me. I still have no words to adequately express my surprise and gratitude when I learned how you have held me in your heart. It's more than I deserve, and I will always treasure your words.

I have very few friends, except for those of you who live there. One I visited on the way there. The girl I brought can tell you all about that, if you wish to know.

I've just arrived in December. I plan to visit my friend's grave before I leave the area.

I will soon check on the insurance girls and my dead friend's friend. They are the reason I came to this city. I won't make myself known to them, since I don't want to interrupt their lives. However, I will make sure that they don't need any assistance that I might be able to offer quietly, without them or anyone else ever knowing that I was involved.

I will do those things, and then write to all three girls under your care. I'm hoping that checking on old friends will give me something to write to them about. I'll send those letters the same way that I sent the drawing, so you know what to expect.

I think it best if I don't return to visit for at least two or three years. I must search for information regarding my lost brother, and that may take some time. If I find a trail of information about his possible fate, I may not wish to interrupt the search. I do not know if I could forgive myself, if I allowed a cold trail to vanish altogether because I interrupted my search.

I also wish to give the girl I brought to you enough time to grow accustomed to living apart from me. I am fond of the child, though I worry that she was growing too attached simply because I was the only person she knew.

The small town we left may be the only place remote enough for me to linger. I must keep moving, for reasons I trust you understand as well as I do. It grieves me that this means I must be parted from all of you.

You deserve a better life than it is within my power to offer you. Please, don't limit your options to me. Don't let the girl do that, either. Both of you deserve better.

Be safe and well.

- "Tumbleweed Jones"

…

_Lisa skipped ahead, barely scanning Luida's sentimental response to reading the letter Vash had written to her. _

_She flipped past a few pages until she found the entry where the other letters arrived. To her disappointment, none of the girls let Luida read their letters. They only told her about them._

_Vash had indeed checked on his friends, without letting any of them know he was in the area. Livio and Milly had married each other. Meryl married someone she met at work. Both families had kids, and both parents and children seemed healthy and happy._

_Since Vash had said almost nothing about himself, Lisa was disappointed and flipped past a few more pages. She lightly scanned how Shyla had kept her promises. The plant girl joined the church choir. She also began eating lunch in the ship's mess hall with half the village, every day. Luida and one or both of her daughters joined her often, but not always. It was difficult for the shy girl, but she continued… apparently determined to please both Vash and Luida._

_Lisa kept flipping pages, lightly scanning, until something caught her eye. The entry was dated roughly two years later than the arrival of Vash's first letter to Luida._

…

"Mama, there's another rumor going around, about Shyla," Lumia said, when she came into my office this afternoon. She sounded disgusted. "This one's worse than most of the others have been."

My hand clenched into a fist. I wanted to hit something. This had been a constant trend, for over two years – ever since Shyla had come to us. If it continued, she was likely to form a negative opinion of humans in general.

The worst part was that the rumors about Shyla were unlike the usual ones that circulated through our village. They didn't have the feel of incomplete or imperfect information that had been supplemented by random speculations. The rumors about Shyla were always maliciously negative in both tone and content.

"What is it this time?" I asked, trying to brace myself. I knew I wasn't going to like it, from the little that Lumia had already said.

"They're saying that Shyla had lunch with Medwin Reeve," Lumia said, "and that she was holding hands and flirting with him. His fiancée is in tears."

"Of course she is," I said. "If I heard a thing like that about the man I loved and planned to marry, I would likely react the same way."

"There may be a good thing from this one, though," Lumia said. "The rumor also says she learned about the two of them from an anonymously sent letter."

"A letter?" I said. I stood up. "Let's go see Patricia, then. Perhaps, this time, we can track the source when we set it right."

"She went home early, after she got the letter," Lumia said.

"So this is very recent?" I said.

"Yes, she only got the letter just a few minutes ago," Lumia said.

I nodded in understanding. Patricia and Lumia worked in the same section of the infirmary. I began walking briskly toward Patricia's house. Perhaps, if we were quick enough, we could fix this before it hurt Medwin and Patricia any further.

I could easily imagine what had probably actually happened. The mess hall could get crowded at lunch time. Shyla was always among the first to go in, and she tended to select an out-of-the-way small table if she didn't see me, Lumia or Larissa.

Medwin Reeve had a younger sister, who was about the age that Shyla appeared to be. If it grew crowded, it is very likely that he might have chosen Shyla's table to eat lunch. He was nearly as bashful as Shyla, who would remind him of his little sister, so they were two people who might gradually become friends.

I suspected that the "hand holding" was either an introductory handshake or one that was merely a greeting between acquaintances. The "flirting" part was probably either entirely imaginary, or else a distortion of Shyla's bashfulness (for example, if she only looked up to respond when he spoke to her but otherwise looked down at her lunch). Or, possibly, they might have been seen laughing together, since Medwin was good at telling humorous anecdotes… if you could ever get him talking.

Shyla simply did not think of boys or men in a flirtatious manner. She was far too bashful to become a flirt. If she did ever become flirtatious, there was a strong probability that all such behavior would be done in the presence of one Vash the Stampede – and it would be done with the sole purpose of getting his attention.

I tried to contain my anger. Patricia would need a combination of sympathy and calmly stated facts, not harsh words against the rumor-monger. Only after she was comforted would it be appropriate to request the letter.

In some ways, I felt even sorrier for Medwin than for Patricia. If she had gone to him with an accusation like this, especially if she broke off the engagement because of it, that gentle soul might be devastated. I would go to him next, if needed.

We went to Patricia's house, and knocked on the door.

"Luida!" she said, when she opened the door for us. Her eyes were red, and there were tear-streaks on her face. "I had not expected a visit from you."

"May we come in, please?" I asked gently.

"Oh, of course," she said, and led us in to the sitting area. "Please, have a seat. What can I do for you?"

Lumia and I sat on her couch, and I said, "Please sit with us, and listen patiently?"

Patricia sat down in an overstuffed chair adjacent to the couch. "What is it?" she asked.

"A rumor has come to my attention, that I believe to be entirely false," I said, as gently as I could manage while still wrestling to rein in my temper. "I came right away, when I heard about it. I was concerned for you. I did not wish you to be injured by this nonsense. However, it appears as if I may have come too late."

"This is more than a rumor," Patricia said, her chin quivering. "Someone saw them, and wrote to me…" her voice broke, and she closed her mouth while trying to retain some measure of composure.

"I'm so sorry that happened," I said. "If I understand correctly, this letter said that your fiancé was eating lunch and flirting with a girl named Shyla?"

Patricia nodded.

"I know both of them," I said, "and I simply can't believe it. Neither one is the type of personality to behave as this rumor claims that they did."

"I didn't want to believe it of Medwin," Patricia said softly, barely above a whisper. "But I don't know Shyla at all. Even if he wasn't flirting, how can we be sure that she wasn't?"

"I know her," Lumia said. "If I'd gotten back just a little sooner, I could have told you. I'm so sorry that I was too late to talk with you before you left."

"Have you ever met Shyla?" I asked. When I saw Patricia shake her head, I continued. "She looks about the age of Medwin's little sister, Daisy. She's tall, but she's very skinny and quite young in her ways. She's possibly the most bashful, shy creature that I have ever encountered. She might be even more bashful than Medwin."

Patricia looked skeptical, but her expression also told me that she was listening.

"You know how crowded the mess hall can get around lunch time," I said. I waited until she nodded. "If Medwin couldn't find a place to sit with co-workers, I'd imagine he might find the idea of sitting with a girl who reminded him of his little sister more appealing than sitting with some random people that he barely knew."

"That's true," Patricia said thoughtfully. Her shoulders became very slightly less hunched. "He's less bashful around children than adults."

"It doesn't take much talking with Shyla to discover that she's painfully shy," I said. "Medwin would recognize that, at least as quickly as anyone else, since he's also very bashful. So I'd suppose he might try telling one of his anecdotes about something silly that Daisy or one of his younger siblings did. She'd be steadfastly looking down at her lunch, until something in the story made her laugh, and then she might look up at him to see if he was serious…"

I saw comprehension dawning on Patricia's face. "And someone saw that, and misunderstood, because they didn't know either of them well enough to know better," she said. Her shoulders relaxed some more. "But… what about the hand-holding part?"

"If it was the first time he met her, wouldn't he shake hands when he introduced himself?" I said.

"Of course he would," she said, sounding almost defensive. "And some scandal-loving gossip tried to make something of it, and accused my Medwin of… ooh!"

She was angry, and rightfully so.

"Now do you understand why I never believed it?" I asked gently.

"Yes," she said. "Thank you, both of you, for coming. I hadn't thought of it like that. I should have, but it hurt so much…"

"It's not your fault that you were taken by surprise," I said. "Honest people don't expect dishonesty. The idea of a betrayal can be so painful that we don't always think clearly about the possibility that we may have been misinformed."

She blushed, and nodded.

"May I see the letter?" I said. "This kind of gossip can cause so much unnecessary heartache... I'd like to discourage the person responsible from continuing such nonsense. If I could borrow the letter, I might be able to track down your anonymous informer."

Patricia rose immediately, pulling the letter from a pocket, and handed it to me. "You can have it," she said. "I don't want that piece of trash anymore."

"Thank you," I said. "Have you spoken with –"

There was a knock on the door.

"That should be Medwin!" Patricia said, her face lighting up. She hurried to the door, opened it, and dove into his arms when she saw him standing uncertainly outside.

"Thank God," I whispered, thinking aloud. I glanced at Lumia, and saw her smiling at me. We'd come in time to prevent worse trouble.

And I had the letter.

…

_Lisa lightly scanned past Luida's venting, and read more carefully when the letter's author had been identified and Luida went to confront her._

…

"Good evening, Brad," I said as calmly as I could manage, when he opened the door. I was still seething. "I need to speak with you and Jessica. I'm sorry that this has to be business, and not a social call."

"All right," he said, looking confused. "What's happened?"

"I'll talk about it, in detail, with both of you," I said. "The summary is that we have a problem with slander."

"Slander?" he sounded shocked. "Who's been slandering us, and why?"

I laid a hand on his forearm. "You aren't the one who's been slandered," I said, more calmly. "Jessica has spread some slander, and I must try to reason with her. I'll need your help, to discourage her from doing it again."

"Oh my God," he said, and his broad shoulders drooped. "It's about Shyla, isn't it? I know that Jessica doesn't like her, but I hadn't thought she'd ever do anything like…"

"I hadn't thought she would, either, until it happened," I said. "Let's talk with her. She doesn't have to like Shyla, but she does need to stop spreading lies about her."

Brad nodded, and led me into his home.

…

_Lisa found the following conversation uncomfortably like a parent lecturing a child, since that was the tone Luida took with Jessica. However, in the case of that specific conversation, it was a council member wielding her authority – appropriately – toward preventing unnecessary trouble among villagers._

_She skipped ahead to see that Brad and Luida had agreed to work together toward helping Jessica improve her behavior. Brad would try to help her alone, but he could call upon Luida anytime when he felt that he needed assistance._

_Brad, Luida, Lumia, Larissa, Patricia and Medwin would all fight the rumor with truth, anywhere it surfaced._

_Luida went to Shyla, to warn her. Although truth had been applied immediately, and everyone involved had a firm grasp of the truth, the rumor might still take a few days to die away._


	9. Two Typhoons

**Disclaimer:** _I don't own Trigun [Maximum], or Vash, or any of the other characters in the series. I only borrow, with respect - and without any money involved._

**Spoiler alert**: _This chapter contains information found in Trigun Maximum Volume 5_.

...

**Two Typhoons**

_Lisa quickly scanned through many pages' worth of entries, until the day when Vash returned for his first visit, after leaving Shyla at the Village. He'd been away a little more than three years._

...

We had closed the storm shutters, because of the satellite radio's warnings of a nasty typhoon-level storm headed our direction. Said storm was expected to hit our area sometime after nightfall. Yet the winds were already beginning to pick up before Shyla arrived for the usual cooking lesson.

If the weather grew violent while she was with us, she could stay over. So I wasn't terribly concerned about that part of it. We all like Shyla very much. In fact, in some ways, she's almost become like a member of the family.

The cooking lesson was nearly done, when Shyla suddenly straightened. "Vash is here!" she said, as an expression of pure delight spread over her features.

She immediately took off her apron. We had to remind her to put on a wrap. The winds were picking up, and it was bitterly cold out.

Naturally, the idea of Vash arriving in town was enough to have all three of us – myself, Lumia and Larissa – immediately putting on our own wraps and running toward the cable car platform with her. We had to be careful to avoid being struck by her long braid, as the wind violently tossed it about.

I'd known from his letters that Vash might be heading this general direction within the next month or two. I had not expected him to arrive today, however.

Not too surprisingly, Shyla was correct. The cable car was already partway across when we arrived. He must have communicated with her telepathically, since we had not yet fitted her with an ear radio. The wind made his cable car sway with increasing violence as it drew nearer. Sandy gusts occasionally hid it from view.

When the car arrived and he opened the door, Shyla nearly knocked him back inside. He smiled at her as he lifted his arm, permitting her to hug him. He lowered his arm again, to hug her close to his side.

He wore jeans, and a jacket of the same style that had grown popular around most of the planet during the last two years. It was something that would blend in, if he were among other people anywhere on the planet… except in this village.

"Well, would you look at what the sandstorm blew in," I said, smiling.

"Yeah, you never know what type of flotsam might find its way in, when there's a severe enough storm," he said, laughing.

Lumia and Larissa ducked under his left arm, where Shyla wasn't, and hugged him also.

"In this case," I said, mock-speculatively, "I think the storm blew something rare and valuable our way. I could wish storms did that more often." Then I smiled. "Welcome home, Vash," I said, before he could protest against the compliment I'd given him.

He was still hugging all three girls – ours under his left arm, and Shyla under his right. He'd opened his mouth to say something, but paused when I welcomed him. He closed his mouth, and then smiled as he opened it again.

"Thank you, Luida," he said.

"Let him get his bag," I suggested to our daughters, "and then we can all go home." I said to Vash, "Shyla was spending the evening with us, so please join us instead of going home alone?"

"Okay," he agreed amiably, still smiling.

It was probably a good thing that he had nothing else to say right then, for both of our girls squealed with delight when they heard that he was coming to our house.

I think we all laughed, except perhaps Shyla. She still had her face buried against his neck and shoulder. When she raised her face, she looked at him with an indescribably intense adoration.

He saw her face, and immediately kissed her forehead. Then he closed his eyes and leaned his cheek against the top of her head.

I gestured to my girls, and they reluctantly let go of their father so that he could fetch his bag from the cable car.

He turned and caught the string with his left hand, but the wind was so fierce that he was obliged to hold it against his side to prevent the drawstring from breaking.

If anyone chanced to look out of their windows, what a strange procession we must have made! Vash had Shyla under one arm, and his bag under the other. I had Lumia under one arm, and Larissa under the other.

Shyla's long blonde braid whipped about dangerously, until Vash tucked it under her wrap for her. His long black hair had largely come loose from the tie behind his neck, so it was flying about in the wind almost as badly as my own hair, or our daughters'.

We all had to bend more and more as we walked, to avoid being driven off course by the wind. We were nearly breathless when we arrived at the house.

"Perhaps we shouldn't stay," Vash said softly, as the girls returned to the kitchen to finish making dinner. "At the rate that wind is growing, we might not make it home if we wait until later."

"Nonsense," I said. "If the winds grow dangerous, Shyla can sleep on the other side of my bed and you can sleep on this couch." I gestured to the largest couch in the sitting area. "I've nodded off there enough times, from reading later than I should have, to know that it's reasonably comfortable."

"Are you sure?" he said. "I wouldn't want to be any inconvenience."

"The only inconvenience you ever cause," I said with mock-sternness, "is being away when we miss having you at home."

He blushed. "If you say so," he muttered softly. He unfastened and took off his jacket, and I saw that he wore the vest we'd given him when he lived with Shyla and Naomi over a pale and nearly colorless long-sleeved shirt.

"Shyla has been teaching the girls to cook better," I said. "The three have become good friends, partly because of this. I wouldn't want to disrupt an evening they'd already planned to spend together."

"I'd hoped she would become friends with you and your family," he said. "I'm glad that is happening, whatever the reason."

He might feel awkward about accepting an invitation for himself, but for the girls… I smiled smugly. "So no more talk of running off into that wind, ok?" I said.

"Okay," he said, smiling and holding up his hands as if in surrender. Then he extended his arms toward me.

I'd not hugged him yet, and we had agreed to be "hugging friends" when out of public view. I gratefully accepted his invitation, stepping to one side as Shyla did. I rested my forehead against the place where his collar bone met his shoulder.

He is still so very dear to me, and I still ache to be near him whenever he's away. So I wasn't surprised that it felt good to be in his arms, even if only briefly. I hadn't expected that it would feel quite _so_ very good, though. It was extremely hard to let go of him… so hard, in fact, that at first I couldn't manage to do it at all.

I felt his hand in my hair, as I heard his softly spoken words in my ear. "You're lonely too, aren't you?" he said gently.

"And so I shall be," I said, very softly. My head and heart were at war, and, for the moment, my heart was winning. I simply could not make myself let go of him.

"Perhaps…" he began, but I interrupted.

"No," I said, shaking my head just enough to make a point. I was still speaking softly, so that the girls couldn't overhear. "I won't marry one man, when I really love another. I have my girls, which is more than most others in similar situations can claim. I'm 55 this year, so I shouldn't have too much longer to bear this ache. I'll get by as I have been doing, for over four decades now. This loneliness… it's nothing new."

"I'm sorry," he said softly. "If…"

Again, I stopped him. If he said one more tender thing to me right now, it might shatter my heart completely. "Please," I said, looking up at his face, "don't. Please."

He closed his mouth, and nodded. He looked sad.

Several heartbeats later, as I continued to look at his sorrowful face, my head finally gained control over my heart, again. I managed to let go of him. I felt his arms fall to his sides, letting go of me. I stepped backward, away from him, enough that we were neither touching nor likely to brush against each other by accident.

"I wonder how dinner is coming along," I said, managing to sound almost normal. "Shall we go find out?"

"That sounds like a good idea," he said.

…

Dinner and dessert were excellent, of course. Shyla had overseen everything, and that girl has a gift with seasonings and sauces.

After dessert, we moved into the sitting area again. Lumia and Larissa were much as usual, on an evening when Shyla was visiting… with one exception. The guest of honor was not the girl who'd become their friend during the last three years. The first focus of their attention was their father, though Shyla was not neglected.

It showed in little ways. For example, instead of sitting on either side of their cooking instructor when it was time to read aloud, they sat on either side of Vash.

Shyla sat to Lumia's right, and held Vash's natural hand as they read.

Vash seemed both surprised and slightly amused by their enthusiastic and affectionate attention. He seemed mostly relaxed with our daughters, which pleased me. He would occasionally glance up at me questioningly, as if uncertain whether he should accept so much attention from them. I always only smiled.

He'd not spent an evening with Lumia since the time he'd visited to deal with the puppet-master, back when she was less than two. Larissa he'd only met briefly, three years ago, when he'd brought Shyla to us.

It did my heart good to see them getting acquainted, and becoming friends.

He kept checking the time, and listening to the winds. I couldn't take my eyes off him. So he and I were the first to notice the lateness of the hour. He looked at me, then at the clock, and then at me again.

I stood from the chair where I'd been sitting, and walked over to the door, and bolted it. "You're staying," I said firmly. "Both of you."

He looked up at me with such an exaggeratedly innocent and contrite expression that I couldn't help smiling. It was the same innocent expression I often saw on the face of one or the other of our daughters. When he said, "Yes, mama," I started laughing.

"Staying?" Lumia said. "As in 'staying all night'?"

"Yes," I said. "This storm is too severe for travel. Even for a Typhoon." I looked as sternly as I could manage toward the humanoid version, who was sitting there looking so excessively innocent on my couch as he sat between our daughters.

"Whee!" Larissa said. "It's a sleep-over party!"

"Since tomorrow's a work day," I said, "it might be best if we start preparing for sleep now. Just in case the storm is over in time to go to work."

"Can we borrow your room, Mama?" Lumia asked. "All three of us?" She gestured toward Shyla and her sister, carefully reaching past Vash's knees to make the distinction plain. "You're the only one who has a big enough bed. That way, you can sleep in one of our beds, and P-Vash can sleep in the other."

I hoped Vash hadn't caught her almost referring to him as "Papa," and said, "That sounds like a good plan."

I watched him closely, and saw that he looked at her a little strangely as he said, "Oh, I can just sleep here on the couch. I have it on good authority that it's comfortable." He smiled, though his eyes still looked puzzled.

Drat. He knew that something was up, but hopefully _not_ what that something was.

"Actually," I said, "that's a fine idea. It means I won't have to get out the extra blankets and make the couch into a bed."

"All right," he said, smiling and raising his hands as if in surrender, "I place myself in your hands. Do with me as you will."

Mayhem ensued, during which Lumia and Larissa each caught one of his hands and tried to pull him to her room. Both of those dear girls wanted to do something for him, and this was the first opportunity that had presented itself.

He talked again of sleeping on the couch, and I made a pretense of pouting from not being wanted, and more mayhem and hilarity followed.

Eventually it was decided that Vash would sleep in Lumia's room, because Larissa had a great many things that she kept piled up on the foot of her bed. Lumia's bed had nothing stacked at its foot, so it was already prepared for a taller person to use it.

Larissa spoke of making sure her bed's foot was clear so that it would be her turn the next time when Vash needed a place to sleep under our roof.

I again played at pouting, careful to exaggerate enough that nobody would mistakenly think me serious. That resulted in both girls hugging me and professing their affection.

I sent them, with Shyla, to their rooms to change for the night.

Vash looked after them gently for quite some time. "They're fine girls," he said softly, after that long silence. "You are truly blessed, my friend, to have two such treasures."

I had to blink rapidly and swallow a lump that had somehow found its way into my throat. "Yes," I agreed. "They are both blessings, and better than I deserve. I have always treasured them, and I always will."

"Before we turn in," he said, "may I see Larissa's room? Since I'll be in Lumia's, I can look at it before I sleep. I hardly know what to write to them, since I don't yet know them very well. If I could spend a short while in Larissa's room also, it may help me to learn something about her that may help me write better letters to her in the future."

"Of course," I said, warmed by his concern. "Should I ask them…?"

"No, please don't trouble them. It can wait until they're settled into your room for the night," he said. "I asked mostly because I didn't want you to worry that I had any … dishonorable intent."

"I would never have thought anything like that of you!" I said firmly. "Still, thank you for having the courtesy to ask."

"I do have a terrible reputation," he said sadly. "I guess some of the others who travel a lot have 'a girl in every town,' so they think I would, too."

He shook his head. "But I could never treat anyone that way, Luida. That would be using them, and hurting them… I just… I couldn't..." He shuddered. His expression of mingled sorrow and disgust spoke more eloquently than his words.

"If you were that kind of man," I said, "Jessica would likely have been 'that girl' in this village. She tried so hard to catch your interest! If she'd succeeded, then she would have told everybody – and his uncle and his dog – until we were all sick of hearing it."

He laughed, looking relieved. "You have a point," he said. "She did try pretty hard."

I thought of making another reassuring reply. However, before I could speak, the three girls came into the room. So I let the subject drop.

My two had taken out Shyla's long braid, and thoroughly brushed her hair. It now flowed over her shoulders and down her back like butter melting over freshly-baked bread.

Shyla wore Lumia's pajamas, which were too short for her. The top was just long enough for the hemline to cover the drawstring waistband of the pants, and the pants' hems stopped well above her ankles. Aside from that, they seemed to fit her well enough.

Seeing the imperfect fit of Lumia's pajamas on Shyla, I found myself saying, "It's a good thing that Vash has his bag. This house has a shortage of clothing likely to fit him."

Lumia and Larissa laughed, doubtless imagining various items from our wardrobes trying to stretch over their father's long frame. However, Shyla looked concerned. I thought it best to speak before the dear naive girl innocently said something awkward.

We had not yet taught Shyla about human biology. How she'd lived for 28 years without encountering that information was beyond my reckoning, but that did seem to be the case. She knew it was "bad manners" for a male and a female to sleep in the same bed unless they were married, but she had no idea why.

"All right," I said, smiling fondly at the young trio, "off to bed with you! There's work to be done tomorrow, and you'll all need some rest first if you're going to do it well. I'll be in shortly to get my own pajamas and robe, and to kiss you all goodnight."

"Will P-Vash also come kiss us goodnight?" Lumia asked. To me, she sounded hopeful.

I looked to Vash, quirking up an eyebrow. "Do you want to?" I asked, hoping to redirect his attention to Lumia's question, and away from what she'd almost – but hadn't – said.

"I…" he said. After several heartbeats' worth of time during which he looked completely lost, he looked at me. "Should I?" he finally asked.

"If you'd like to, then I think you should," I said, smiling in a manner that I hoped he would find encouraging. I turned very slightly, to look more directly at the girls. "It might be best if he kisses you now. Then go to my room, and finish getting ready for sleep."

Both Lumia and Larissa stepped forward immediately, but then Lumia stepped back. "He's in my room," she said softly.

Larissa had been looking at her sister, but, upon hearing those words, she turned toward Vash. She tipped her face up toward him, and slightly to one side, offering him a cheek.

He briefly yet gently kissed her cheek, and then her sister's, and wished each a good night. Both smiled, and then went into the hall that leads to my bedroom.

Shyla came more slowly, at first. Then she smiled, and he held out his arms toward her. She stood by his right side, rose to her tip-toes, and kissed his cheek. He reciprocated, and both said a very gentle "good night" before hugging briefly and then separating.

When he kissed Shyla, it had been as perfectly chaste as were the kisses he bestowed upon our daughters. Yet hers had been ever-so-slightly less brief.

I quickly scratched at my nose, to conceal the smile that I could feel wanting to claim my mouth. Their mutual affection, though currently entirely platonic, was both strong and deep. In time, it was very likely to blossom into something more.

However, that could be decades – or even centuries – away.

It helped, somehow, to know that Vash need not be lonely all of his life. Someone else had come into his life who loved him, at least as dearly as I did. Shyla should live as long as he. That could be good for both of them.

"I'll get my pajamas and robe from the bedroom," I said softly, "and then change in the girls' hall bathroom. Will that give you enough time to look around? Larissa's is the second one."

"Thank you," he said, nodding. He picked up his bag and turned toward the short hall that leads to the girls' bedrooms.

All three girls run slender, so they actually all fit onto my bed without the remotest danger of anyone falling off on either side. I tucked them in, as if they were all very little girls, and gave to each a quick "good night" kiss.

I closed the drapes, since it was winter and the insulation helped keep out the cold. The storm shutters we'd closed earlier should also help. I pulled my pajamas out of a drawer, grabbed my bathrobe and diary, and warned them that I was about to turn out the lights.

There were protests, but I reminded them that they all had work to do tomorrow. The amount of giggling that followed the turning off of the lights was not encouraging, nor was it surprising.

Grinning and shaking my head, I went to the other side of the house. As I passed the girls' bedroom doors, I saw Vash's bag in Lumia's room and Vash himself in Larissa's. I smiled and ducked into the bathroom to change.

I finished changing and emerged with clothing and diary bundled in my arms just as he was stepping out of Larissa's room. He looked sad.

"Is something wrong?" I asked. My left hand reached out and touched his right forearm. Like Shyla, I instinctively reached toward his natural arm.

His face formed a smile that failed to reach his eyes. "I just…" He sighed. "I wish I could stay longer, and get to know both of your girls better. Unfortunately, I'm still a hunted outlaw. I dare not linger." His shoulders drooped, and he bowed his head.

"But most of the crimes that you're wanted for, they aren't even your doing!" I said, wanting badly to help him feel better. "It's not fair –"

"It is fair," he said quietly.

"How can it possibly be fair?" I asked, frustrated with the injustice of those accusations and his apparent acceptance of that situation.

"Because I am the one who destroyed July," he said softly, drooping still further.

"You remembered?" I said, torn between shock and sympathy.

"Yes," he said. He stood there, head and shoulders drooping, self-condemned.

I knew well that Vash could be harder on himself than almost anyone else would ever be. I refused to jump to any conclusions. The one thing I knew for certain was that someone I cared for very deeply was badly in need of a friend at that moment.

I stepped into Larissa's doorway just enough to throw my daytime clothes and my diary onto the bed, and then I turned toward him again. "Please," I said, again gently touching his right forearm, "If you would, tell me about it. I'm asking as your friend, not as a Council member. However, if you _want_ me to, I can also report to them. But only if you want me to." I gestured toward the sitting area.

"You're right," he said sadly, "I should tell someone. And the Council should probably know, though they may not ever want me to return again, after they learn."

I gently encouraged him toward the sitting area, while saying, "Whatever it is, we already know what kind of person you are. You're family, Vash. Nothing can change that."

"This might," he said, so softly that I could barely hear him over the howling winds.

I sat on the couch, and gestured toward the empty space beside me, to my left. "Please," I said gently, "tell me everything."

He stood for a moment, indecisive, and then sat. "There's not much to tell," he said sadly. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. "I did it, as we'd always suspected and feared. I destroyed the city of July."

"That's not telling me everything," I teased gently, "that's only a summary. I want to hear everything. Please."

He stared at his hands, hanging limply just beyond his knees. "There was a man in July that I wanted to see. But I didn't know where in that town to find him."

He glanced toward me with sorrowful eyes, as if to see if I were truly listening.

"Go on," I said softly, nodding to encourage him.

"While I asked around, I worked at a restaurant, in the kitchen," he said. "Rem had taught me how to cook, so I could do that, and wash dishes, and anything else that they needed me to do. The man I sought was out of town, so I had to wait for his return. The day he returned…" He paused, his head hanging lower.

"Please continue," I said gently.

"The day he returned, I quit my job at the restaurant," he said. "I went to see him. Instead, I found Knives there. He led me down a stairway, and the next thing I knew I was lying in a bed with needles in my arm. Someone was doing experiments on me. I'm not sure how long that lasted."

I laid my hand on his forearm, to comfort him. I silently waited for him to continue.

"When they finally released me," he said, "before I could leave, as I passed through a room where Knives was, my arm… this arm… began to change." he moved his right hand slightly, and looked at me as if he expected me to recoil.

I held as perfectly still as I could, without holding my breath. After a few heartbeats, he spoke again.

"Feathers seemed to be coming out of my hand and arm," he said, looking again at the limb in question. "I asked Knives what he had done to me. He called it power, contained within us… he said he'd been studying it for a long time. He was transforming one of his own hands. He seemed to find it exciting. He said that it was hard to get used to, at first, and hot because the energy flow was so strong…" Vash, head still bowed, shook his head. "I began to panic. It burned so hot that it hurt terribly. He told me to calm down and resonate with him, but I could not. I didn't trust him."

"You had no cause to trust him," I reminded him gently. "If my body started changing like that, or burning me, I would panic, too." I did not remove my hand from his forearm, but instead squeezed it gently. Then I held still again, waiting for him to continue.

A tear slipped down his cheek. "He told me that if I unleashed it, then it would destroy everything there," Vash said, still sounding sorrowful. "He seemed to think that would be a good thing. Then he asked if, after spending nearly a hundred years among humans, didn't I hate them? I told him to shut up, that I wasn't like him."

"You weren't and aren't," I said, as gently and with as much conviction as I could.

He glanced up at me, his eyes mournful, and then he looked at his hands again. "He said when he saw all the scars on my body, that they made him feel sick," he said. "He must have done some kind of research, because he then listed off every way that ordinary humans had ever mistreated me. He called me an arrogant hypocrite, and said that my idealism was eating away my own heart."

Vash's head hung lower. "He yelled out that he hated Rem, because she tainted me. He put his hand on the side of my head, and I could feel energy passing between us. The burning grew worse. I begged him to stop…"

His head drooped until his chin touched his chest. "My arm formed into a cannon, and fired," he whispered. "I destroyed July."

"No," I said firmly, as I felt a tear sliding down my own cheek. "Knives did."

His head came up, and he looked at me in shocked dismay. "I just told you…"

"I heard every word that you said," I told him. I stood up, walked to the bookshelf, and picked up a few books. I carefully stacked them on their edges in pairs, like building blocks, to form a short and roughly rectangular tower. I pointed to the shaky stack of books. "If I were to kick this stack of books, it would be my fault that they got knocked over and scattered all over the floor, correct?"

"Yes," he said, looking at me as if he were concerned that I'd lost my mind.

I smiled. "On the other hand, what if I were standing here admiring these stacked books, and someone came up behind me and pushed me into them… Would it still be my fault if they get knocked over? Or would it be the fault of the person who pushed me?"

I saw comprehension dawn in his facial expression, though his eyes were no less troubled. "It's not the same thing," he said. "I should have –"

"It is _exactly_ the same thing," I said. "Didn't you tell Doc that Knives knew things about your body that you didn't? It may have been your body that he used as his weapon, but Knives was the one who pulled the trigger."

"It's kind of you to say so," he said, "but –"

"Kind nothing," I said. "I'm speaking facts. Your body may have been used, but it was Knives who destroyed July. That will be my report to the Council."

"I should have stopped it," Vash said miserably.

"Maybe I should have somehow found a way to regain my balance before I stumbled into the books, after being pushed," I said. "However, if I failed to recover, even though I tried my best, that doesn't make it my fault that I was pushed."

He looked thoughtful, so I continued. "You did not yet know how to control it," I said. "We knew that when you told us about the fifth moon incident. We always suspected that might be the situation in July, also. To your credit, you learned how to control it later. And you did that without the benefit of whatever resources Knives used to study it."

I abandoned the small tower of books to sit beside him again. I also rested my hand on his forearm, again. "It's unfortunate, even tragic, that you didn't learn sooner," I said more gently. "Since you couldn't remember July, you had no means to guess how to prevent the second incident. You cannot be blamed for what Knives did through you."

He was staring down at the floor, and looking so thoroughly miserable that I took my hand off his forearm and placed it around his shoulders. "This will change nothing," I said, trying to reassure him. "You will always be welcome here."

His tears were increasing. I drew his head to my shoulder, and held him as I often held Lumia or Larissa, when something troubled them to the point of tears. His arm slipped around my waist, and he let me hold him while he cried.

It took a while, but eventually he cried himself out for that time. I suggested we turn in, and we did. I had much to think about, and I prayed he would be able to sleep and heal.


	10. While the Winds Blew

**Disclaimer:** _I don't own Trigun [Maximum], or Vash, or any of the other characters in the series. I only borrow, with respect - and without any money involved._

...

**While the Winds Blew**

_Lisa continued reading…_

...

It felt as if I had only just closed my eyes, when I heard Vash's voice from the doorway.

"Luida?" He called softly.

I could barely hear him over the howling of the storm. "Yes?"

"The power's gone out."

I sat up immediately. "The plants?" I said, "Are they all right?"

"They're fine, just puzzled," he said. "They don't understand why the power requests decreased. I'd guess a connection came loose somewhere, probably caused by the storm."

I sighed in relief. "As long as they're all fine, we can repair the connection after the storm blows over," I said.

"It's winter, and it's getting colder by the hour," he said. "Do you have a non-electric, portable heater?"

"Yes," I said, throwing aside the blankets and groping in the darkness for my robe. "We also have candles and an oil lamp."

"It sounds like you're well prepared," he said. I could hear his smile in the way he pronounced his words. "You should join the girls in your room, and get the heater going. It might be a little cramped, but that will help all of you to keep warm."

"There was an organization back on Old Earth," I said, "whose motto was along the lines of, 'always be prepared.' Some of my ancestors took that very much to heart, and that became their legacy."

"That's a good legacy," he said. "I should check around, and make sure that everyone else has enough blankets, gets their own heaters on, and that sort of thing."

I followed him out of the door. "Wait!" I said. "I'll need your help with the heater. It's too heavy for me to move alone. If we wake the girls, it may be a long time before they go back to sleep."

"Okay, sure," he said.

I was thinking as hard and fast as I could. I did not want him going out there in that storm. Winds like tonight's had been known to blow people into the sand ocean. Falling into that ocean had always been a death sentence.

I asked for his hand, and he touched my shoulder. I led him to the storage room where the lamp, candles and heater were kept. First, I lit a candle, and then the lamp. I placed the candle into a sconce in the storage room. We quietly moved the lamp into my room, where the girls still slept. I had a decorative candle on a candlestick in the sitting area, and I lit that one too.

Now that we had a dim light to see by, we returned to the storage room and I pointed out the heater. We had to remove a few things that had gotten piled on top of and in front of it, but we got that tended and moved the heater into my bedroom also. After wrestling it into the room, we placed it near the foot of the bed and turned it on.

He paused, looking at the sleeping girls, and smiled his sad smile. "The sleep of the innocent," he said softly. "I miss that. I hope that they shall always have it."

I reached toward him, not knowing what to say, but he had already turned away toward the doorway.

When he stepped out of the bedroom, I followed, closing the door behind me. I saw that he still wore the same clothing he'd been wearing when I turned in. I wondered if he'd slept at all. His eyes were still slightly reddened, from when he'd cried a few hours ago.

He put on his winter jacket, and began tying one end of a rope he'd found in the storage room around his waist. He walked to the door, and reached toward its handle. He held the coils of the rope over his left forearm.

"No, Vash," I said, running to him and catching at his arm.

He paused, turning toward me. He stood with his back to the door, waiting to hear what I had to say.

I took hold of the front of his jacket with both hands. "Don't go out there," I pleaded. "We can't risk losing you!"

He laid his natural hand along the left side of my face with surprising gentleness, given the number of calluses on that hand.

I saw his expression change from determination to a gentle thoughtfulness. He seemed more relaxed than he had been as he walked to the door, so I thought that I had persuaded him. My hands began to unclench.

"Thank you," he said, so softly that it was nearly a whisper.

Then he was gone, closing the door behind him to keep the storm out.

"No!" I said, as I realized that he'd gone anyway. I beat my fists against the door as tears streamed down my face. "No…" I sobbed, brokenheartedly, for some time.

When I finally regained my composure, I returned to the storage room. I picked up a candle holder, placed a candle in it, and lit the candle. Then I went to Larissa's room and started carefully removing everything she had stacked on the foot of her bed.

As soon as I had cleaned off Larissa's bed, I pulled off the covers and dragged the mattress to my bedroom. I opened the door and wrestled it through, and then placed it flat on the floor, between the portable heater and the wall.

Then I left my bedroom, quietly closing the door behind me. I moved the candle from Larissa's to Lumia's room, and took her mattress also. I dragged her mattress into my room and placed it on top of Larissa's, thus forming a makeshift bed on the floor.

"When you return," I whispered tearfully, not allowing myself to consider other possibilities, "you'll need a warm place to sleep."

I went back and forth, getting his bag, a pillow, and all the blankets from both girls' beds.

When the makeshift bed was made up to my satisfaction, I went to the storage room and got all the extra blankets for my bed. I spread most of those over the sleeping girls, and then added one or two more to Vash's bed.

When he returned, I would join the girls. First, though, I needed to see him return. I couldn't rest, knowing he was out in that storm alone. I couldn't join him, since he had the only rope, but I could make sure he learned about the bed I'd prepared for him in the only room in the house that still had any heat.

I checked the lamp and heater in my bedroom, and then I left that room and closed the door behind me. I went to the girls' rooms, retrieved my diary, blew out the candle I'd used in there, and returned the candle to its place in storage.

I chose from storage a quilt too small for my bed, and not needed for Vash's since he already had double blankets plus a few extra. I wrapped the quilt around myself over my robe and pajamas. I blew out the candle and left the storage room.

I went into the sitting area and flopped down on the couch that I had originally offered to Vash as a sleeping-place for this night. I looked at the clock and made a mental note of the time. Then I waited impatiently, while updating my diary.

Two hours later, my head was drooping. I'd nearly fallen asleep. That's when he finally returned. I know this because our sitting-area clock is an old wind-up "grandfather" style clock, from back on old Earth. It was not affected by the power outage.

Vash's hair and clothing were caked with sand. He looked paler than usual – even in the dim light of the candle. He stumbled, unsteady on his feet from weariness. It was a struggle for him, just coming in through the doorway.

"Vash!" I said, torn between anger and relief. I did not wish to cry under these circumstances, since that might seem weak to a man who was so incredibly strong. Being practical had served me in the past, so I hoped I could persuade it to serve me again. I bolted the door behind him.

"Quickly," I said briskly, "come in and get cleaned up so that you can rest comfortably." I untied the rope from around his waist, and let it drop to the floor. I took hold of his right arm and began pulling him toward my bedroom.

"I can't sleep with you and the girls," he protested, balking.

"I made up a separate bed for you," I said. "Come, the door to the bathroom was left open so you can clean up where it's warm."

His resistance melted away, and I led him in. I pointed to his bag, and his bed, and then to the restroom's door. All were plainly visible in the dim light from the oil lamp.

He stood still for a moment, as if somewhat dazed. Then he nodded. "Thank you," he said. He moved slowly and carefully to get his bag, and then he took it to the restroom.

I briefly returned to the sitting area, just long enough to blow out the candle there and retrieve my diary. After that, I returned to my bedroom and closed the door. I pulled back the covers on his bed, hoping that would make it look more inviting and comfortable. I sat on the edge of my bed, by the girls. I wrote more, further updating my diary.

I listened to the sounds of water running, and scrubbing, that came from the bathroom. I looked up when he came out. He was wearing his pajamas, and had a damp towel over his head. He must have left his bag in the bathroom, which was fine with me. He looked so very tired that it made my heart ache for him. He stumbled again.

I began to stand, ready to assist him if he needed it. One corner of his mouth quirked upward, but he shook his head. He staggered over to his bed without stumbling again. He pulled the towel off his head and spread it over the pillow. Then he lay down and sighed. A very few heartbeats later, he slipped his legs under the blankets. He pulled the covers up over himself, and finally seemed to relax a little.

Only then did I lay aside my quilt and robe. I finally allowed myself to get into my own bed, with the girls. I snuggled against Lumia, and tried returning to sleep.

The wind howled at a different pitch than the breathing of the five of us in that room. With a bit of effort, I could distinguish one from the other. I lay quietly, listening to the sound of his breathing. He was so exhausted that it wasn't long before his breathing became deep and even, like the girls' and for the same reason… he'd fallen asleep.

I sat up, carefully arranged the blankets so the girls wouldn't feel a draft, put my robe back on, and went over to stand by the makeshift bed where he slept. Even in sleep, his expression was troubled. I knelt on the floor by his bed, careful to keep my robe clear of the heater.

Without meaning to, I began to gently stroke his hair as I watched him sleep. By some instinct or reflex, he moved his head slightly, as if to accommodate my hand. It reminded me of how a thoroughly tame cat will adjust its ears to encourage more petting. That thought made me smile.

As if summoned by my thoughts, our family cat appeared from wherever she'd been concealing herself. She rubbed against my other arm, demanding attention. So I stroked her soft fur, and enjoyed the gentle rumbling of her purr.

Old instincts, inclinations and impulses tried to resurface. I firmly squelched every one. Having Vash near, and seeing him sleep, seemed to be stirring up feelings I'd thought were long dormant. I cannot and must not ever become "the" woman in this dear, infinitely precious man's life.

Oh, I know that he's a little different from ordinary humans like me. I know he's a plant with a much longer lifespan, and that his body will heal more quickly than mine. I know that he can communicate either telepathically or empathically (or perhaps both?) with other plants when he wants to, including those inside glass orbs. Most of the other differences went away, back when his blonde hair all turned black. I didn't care about those things, or at least I never cared about them for my own sake.

However, for his sake… It wouldn't be fair to him, if he came to love too deeply a person like myself who had only an ordinary human's lifespan. Every instinct has always told me that Vash is a one-woman man. If he found that one woman, only to lose her because her lifespan was drastically less than his own… no, I must not do that to him. It would be too cruel. Somehow, I must remain strong.

I can only be his friend, no matter how much my heart cries for more. Perhaps, at least tonight, I could soothe him just a little. It might help him to sleep more restfully.

His gentle heart… always filled to overflowing with such deeply altruistic, platonic and compassionate love for everyone… was also wounded, and constantly suffered from incredible pain that would overwhelm a lesser soul. I would not knowingly do anything that might add to his pain.

I wanted to keep him close, and comfort him, and shield him from further hurts. I wanted to help him heal, and also help him to rediscover how to fully enjoy his life during every hour of every day.

Yet I knew that was impossible.

Vash was safe, for the moment. I couldn't protect him, but at least I could look after him, a little bit, while he was here.

His expression slowly relaxed as I stroked his hair. After I saw his face relax completely, I reluctantly disentangled my fingers from his hair, and stood. The cat meowed a mild protest when I moved, and then she hopped onto Vash's bed to curl up by his feet.

I returned to my own bed, and laid aside my robe again.

All three girls slept peacefully, and I found myself smiling at them. "Take care of him, after I can't," I wished softly.

I finished updating my diary in the dim light from the oil lamp, and then I lay down to sleep.

…

Not even the slightest hint of grey light was yet seen through the window when I was wakened by a slight tug on the blankets. I was accustomed to sleeping alone (except for the cat), so I awoke mildly surprised that I'd not waked numerous times before. I'd half expected to rouse slightly every time that one of the girls moved. I must have been more tired than I'd thought.

I raised myself onto one elbow, noted that the winds were still howling outside, and saw Shyla trying to slip out of bed without disturbing any of us. She was moving carefully, only a little at a time. I gently tugged on Lumia's shoulder, and she rolled back toward me enough to let Shyla out of the bed with less difficulty.

Shyla smiled and nodded her thanks, and finished wriggling out from between Lumia and Larissa. She mouthed the word "bathroom" and then crawled off the bed to move in that direction. I gently encouraged Lumia, who was still deeply asleep, to move toward her sister. If I could get Lumia to move close enough to Larissa, then I could let Shyla back into the bed considerably more easily than she had left it.

I succeeded, somewhat to my surprise, without waking either daughter. I edged away from them, and sat up to look at my other guest.

The troubled expression had returned to Vash's face, though he remained asleep. He was turning his head back and forth, and his breathing was coming in gasps. Waves of guilt assailed me… I should not have asked him to talk about July before attempting to sleep last night. I began to ease out of my bed, careful to avoid disturbing my girls.

Shyla returned from the restroom, and also looked toward Vash. I don't think she noticed me at all. She immediately went and knelt by his bed, and began stroking his hair.

I reached for my robe, got out of bed, and put the robe on. I went to join Shyla.

The makeshift bed upon which Vash slept was situated so that the wall was on his right side, and we were on his left. The cat was curled between Vash's feet and the wall, and had raised her head and flicked her ears backward, less than pleased at his restlessness.

Shyla was weeping. She nearly startled when I knelt beside her, but then her focus immediately returned to Vash. "He's having a troubling dream," she whispered. "It's hurting him."

"Should we wake him?" I asked.

She lifted her seat off her heels, and leaned over him. She put her arms around him, and rested her head on his chest. Tears continued to stream silently down her cheeks.

His reaction was immediate. He sighed in his sleep, and relaxed. He pulled his right arm out from under the blankets, and rested his hand on her head. His breathing became deep and even, again.

The cat also relaxed, and returned to resting her chin on the blankets over his leg. I knew she was purring, even though she did it too softly to hear, because I could see her fur vibrating. A cat's purr can soothe most of us ordinary humans; I hoped it would do the same for Vash.

I stroked his hair, as I had during the night, briefly allowing myself to enjoy watching him sleep. The early winter morning was cool, though, even with the heater going. Because of this, it wasn't long before I wanted the warmth of my bed again.

I saw that Shyla's shoulders were becoming hunched, as if against the cold. Her position had caused a gap between the too-short pajama top and the waistband of the bottoms. Small wonder the poor girl felt cold!

"He seems to be resting better now," I whispered. "Let's get back into bed and rest while we can. We'll have plenty of hard work to do, after the winds let up."

"I would," she whispered, "but…" her eyes turned in a way that I somehow understood meant that she didn't want to wake him by making his hand fall off her head.

I reached to his hand, and gently lifted it off her head. She somewhat reluctantly straightened, and I lifted his blankets enough to place his hand on his chest in roughly the same position it had been when resting on Shyla's head. I spread the blankets over him again, smoothing them around his body to help him stay warm.

"I encouraged Lumia to move, so you can get in from the side," I whispered to Shyla.

"Thank you," she whispered back.

Shyla got in, and snuggled against Lumia's back. I removed my robe, and got in, and snuggled against Shyla's back.

I lay there feeling odd.

On one hand, I was glad that someone had the power to comfort Vash when he needed it. That new evidence of the growing bond between him and Shyla was, in some ways, comforting to me. I knew very well that Shyla loved him as dearly as I did.

On the other hand, it hurt that I wasn't the one who could so thoroughly comfort him. I thought I'd overcome my selfish wish to have Vash for myself. Unfortunately, it seemed I was mistaken in that belief. I still longed for him, more than I'd realized until I saw him again.

I must conquer this selfishness within me. If Shyla becomes the one who will be there for Vash, then I must be happy for both of them from the bottom of my heart. I must work on my attitude, so that it will be what it ought to be when the time comes.

I thought and prayed about these things until I fell asleep again.

…

When next I woke, there was still no light showing from outside. I could still hear the winds howling, but they sounded a little less violent.

I moved slowly, raising my head to check on the girls and Vash. He lay on his side, facing away from me. His breathing, and the way his shoulder moved as he breathed, suggested a relaxed, peaceful sleep. The same was true of Lumia and Larissa. Shyla, however, seemed tense. I gently touched her shoulder.

She turned her face toward me. There were shiny streaks, as if she'd been crying.

"Are you okay, dear?" I whispered.

She slowly and carefully turned toward me, trying to avoid disturbing Lumia. When she succeeded, she put her arms around me and held on as if for dear life. "I had that dream again," she whispered softly.

"I'm so sorry, dear," I whispered, putting my arms around her and gently stroking her hair. I loved this girl almost as much as I loved my own daughters. It made my heart ache to see her hurting like this. "I still hope and pray it's only symbolic," I added softly, "and that you'll learn how to save him, and still survive to enjoy his extended life too."

She nodded, and clung to me for some time.

We must have both fallen asleep, because I awoke later with my arms still around her as she slept. Lumia and Larissa continued to sleep, apparently undisturbed.

Vash, however, was peering at us over the foot of the bed. When he saw me looking at him, he briefly offered me one of his sad, gentle smiles. Then he stood and came to the side of the bed. He bent over, until his mouth was near to my ear, and whispered softly.

"Is she okay?" he asked.

"Bad dream," I whispered as softly as I could.

His gentle expression grew sadder, and he reached past me, with his right hand, to stroke her hair. His fingers encountered my hand, since I had fallen asleep doing exactly what he was doing. That caused his smile to return.

"She's such a sweet child," he said, still whispering softly. Then he glanced toward our daughters, and sighed. "They all are. I just know this one better than the others."

"My two are more mischievous," I said, still in a soft whisper. "I doubt Shyla ever led a man to a half-naked woman's bedroom."

That brought on a smile that reached his eyes, along with a soft chuckle. "No," he whispered back, "I don't believe Shyla ever did that."

He looked at her fondly for a moment, and then his gaze shifted back to my face. "It sounds like the winds have decreased enough for traveling without a rope," he whispered. "I should change, and go see if I can find and re-connect whatever came apart that has left so many houses without power."

"Please wait a little longer," I whispered. "Let it grow calmer out. You warned everyone last night, so people should all be settled in as snugly as possible. A delay now will do no harm. Besides, the girls will be worried if they wake and you're not here."

He raised an eyebrow. "Only the girls?" He teased, still whispering. Were his eyes twinkling, or was it only a trick of the dim light that made it appear as if they were?

"We will all worry," I whispered. I felt some heat in my face as I admitted that. Still, it was truth. Any embarrassment was worthwhile, if it kept him out of that dangerous wind.

"All right," he whispered. He gently squeezed my shoulder, and then returned to his bed. He lay down, and I thought I heard the cat purring. It wasn't long before his breathing became that deep, even rhythm that meant he was asleep.

I relaxed, relieved that he was safe. Everyone's gentle breathing lulled me, and I soon dozed off again.

…

The next waking must have been close to our usual hour for rising. Everyone was stirring mildly, yawning, and generally showing signs of either having been awake only a very short time, or else still being in the process of transitioning from sleep to wakefulness.

A very faint grey light managed to leak past the storm shutters and under the drapes, further confirming my idea that it was probably around the usual time for waking.

"Who wants first use of the bathroom?" I asked.

"I will," Vash said. "Then I can get my bag out of everyone else's way."

We all took turns in the bathroom, and everyone put on warm clothes.

Shyla knew a way to cook breakfast by using a metal pan on top of the heater, so we ate both well and gratefully. We had to use some care, to keep the cat from helping herself to our breakfast, but otherwise the meal went cheerfully.

"It's just like camping," Shyla said, when we thanked her again for making breakfast and complimented her on her ingenuity in using the heater. "I cooked like this for two years, while we journeyed through the desert."

I glanced toward Vash, who was grinning even though his mouth was full. When Lumia and Larissa asked, he nodded verification of Shyla's claim.

"If this means you two want Shyla to continue giving cooking lessons about camp recipes after she finishes teaching you other things," I said, "I have no objection. I enjoy her company, too."

Shyla blushed as both of my daughters indicated interest in learning camp-style cooking, in addition to the other cooking lessons she was already giving them.

I grinned at Vash, who was discouraging the cat from helping herself to the food on his plate by putting tidbits onto the floor.

After breakfast, Vash helped our village's maintenance crew to find and fix all of the disconnections. Full power was restored to everyone. He also helped to repair other damages caused by the storm.

I think everyone was grateful that the gentle "Humanoid Typhoon" had come to us along with the more violent typhoon. His presence had been a boon, both from giving warnings when the power went down and from assisting with repairs afterward.


	11. Weary Weekend

**Disclaimer:** _I don't own Trigun [Maximum], or Vash, or any of the other characters in the series. I only borrow, with respect - and without any money involved._

...

**Weary Weekend**

_Lisa turned to the next page and continued reading…_

...

Yesterday was a long day. Thankfully, today is Saturday. This means we can all catch our breath, tend the young apple trees, and rest for most of the day.

I had to do a lot of traffic directing in the aftermath of the storm, so although I saw my girls, Vash and Shyla during the day… I had almost no opportunity to speak with any of them. Shyla spent most of her day in the community kitchen, helping to feed everyone involved with repairs.

Vash almost seemed to be everywhere, lending a helping hand wherever one was needed. It didn't matter how unglamorous or dirty the job was. On the other hand, it didn't seem to matter how precise a skill was needed, either. If it needed doing, he would go and help. Many in the younger generation, who knew of him mostly from tales told, were impressed by either his knowledge or his humility.

I learned toward evening that Vash had also shown an inclination toward offering to get refreshments for whatever team he was currently working with. I had noticed that he appeared in the community kitchen oftener than others, but I'd thought he was either hungry himself, or else seeking excuses to visit his favorite young chef.

After learning how frequently he offered to fetch snacks for others, though, I suspect the latter is the more likely explanation. From the way he talked during the storm, he may not yet be consciously aware of just how much he's drawn toward her.

As the second sun was disappearing behind the horizon, he came to the community kitchen for the last time, for the day. Most had already left, but Shyla was among the few helping to finish with the cleanup. Vash spoke with the supervisor, and Shyla joined him. The supervisor shook both of their hands, and then they turned away to walk home.

Vash put his right arm around Shyla's shoulders, and she put her left arm around his waist, and they were talking softly with each other as they slowly walked away. If anyone called to them, they would smile, wave, and keep walking.

I saw a movement from the corner of my eye, as I was watching them walk away. It was Jessica, raising her hands and clenching them into fists. Beyond her, I could see Brad. He looked uncomfortable as he watched his wife while he held their young daughter in one arm, and extended his other arm to hold hands with his son.

I sighed. It seemed that I must inform them, at least, of Shyla's race. Perhaps that would ease the tensions.

I moved just enough to catch Brad's attention, then looked toward his wife, and tipped my head toward where Jessica stood. He nodded, and we both walked to her.

"It's been a long day," I observed dryly.

"Yes, it has," Brad said.

Jessica appeared to ignore both of us, continuing to glare after Vash and Shyla.

I looked back toward Vash and Shyla, in time to see him stumble and her hug him more tightly to prevent him from falling.

"It appears to have worn out everybody," I said, "both human and plant."

Brad saw where I was looking, and nodded. He adjusted his hold on his little girl, who was nodding drowsily and leaning her small head on her father's broad shoulder.

"He's always so concerned about everyone," I said, carefully trying to avoid sounding fond of him, "including other plants. Small wonder he shows so much concern for the only other plant he knows well, who's not in an orb. Especially since she's so much younger than he is. For him, it must be a little like discovering a long lost little sister."

Brad did a double-take, and then looked thoughtful. "She's a plant, too, eh?"

"We will doubtless need to mention that officially before too much longer," I said. "She doesn't age like a normal human, so people will begin to wonder. We wanted to give her some time to settle in, first, and for everyone to get used to having her around, before announcing that. She's one of us, now, regardless of her race."

"She seems like a nice kid," Brad said. "Will she protect us, like Vash did?"

"She doesn't seem to have the same fighting skills that he does," I said, "or at least she doesn't have them yet. Time will tell. Although I believe that if she had to, she would try her best. Even if she didn't like us, she would fight for us anyway – simply because Vash does. However, I hope she will grow to like all of us, and that she will never need to defend us."

"Hmm, yeah," Brad said. "If she can do even half the things Vash could, I wouldn't want her to be my enemy." He looked at his wife, who continued to stare after Vash and Shyla with a sour expression on her face.

"Vash was a hundred and fifty years old when he saved us," I said. "Shyla is not yet thirty. She may still have much to learn, even about being a plant."

"Maybe," Brad said. He was still watching his wife, and looking uncomfortable.

"I hope you all rest well, after working so hard today," I offered.

"Thanks," Brad said, looking relieved. He recognized a farewell when he heard one. "Come on, Jessica, let's go home."

Jessica finally flicked her gaze in the direction of her husband. He turned and began to walk away toward their house. She followed, though she also constantly looked over her shoulder toward Vash and Shyla.

I privately thought it was a good thing that the two houses were at opposite ends of our village.

I traveled my own homeward journey, and arrived to find my daughters ready for bed. We had all eaten at the community kitchen, so we only hugged and kissed each other good night before turning in.

…

This morning's tree-tending went by more swiftly than usual.

Everyone was so tired that they were inclined to do only the bare minimum. Yet we did not finish earlier than usual, because Vash was there hovering over the young trees like a mother Thomas. He motivated everyone to take good care of the trees, and somehow he managed to make it fun.

Thankfully, the storm had struck during the winter when the trees had no leaves to be caught by the wind. So there was little damage, but they did need more sand built up around their roots to protect them from the cold.

With Vash's encouragement, everyone did their best and the time flew by swiftly. Shyla was also present, and participating, but she lacked Vash's skills for entertaining and motivating others. As usual, she was quietly efficient and easily overlooked, even though she stayed near Vash, who was the center of attention, all morning.

Everyone scattered for lunch, and afterward I think most of us turned toward various forms of relaxation. I picked up a favorite book, and curled up on the couch with a mug of hot chocolate and a soft quilt, planning to do some reading.

Lumia and Larissa emerged from the kitchen after finishing the dishes from lunch.

"We're going shopping, Mama," Lumia said.

"Will you come with us?" Larissa said.

"I'm tired, dear hearts," I said. "Yesterday was exhausting. I think I'll stay here and read, instead, if you don't mind too terribly."

Each came and kissed my cheek.

"We'll miss you," Larissa said.

"You're not sick or anything?" Lumia asked, sounding worried.

"No, I'm just old and tired," I said, smiling at her. I'd discovered yet another grey hair this morning. Their number was growing each year. At this rate, it wouldn't be long before they formed streaks all through my hair.

Both girls laughed, and then Lumia said, "Well, I suppose that is a kind of sickness. Maybe someday I'll find a cure for it."

"I doubt that it will be easily cured," I said tauntingly.

"Oh, but she can be determined!" Larissa said, getting into the spirit of our talk.

"Yes, I can!" Lumia said. She struck a pose that suggested, at least to my mind, more of stubbornness than determination. Her facial expression was equally exaggerated.

I laughed. I couldn't help it. "Are you trying to frighten it away?" I asked.

"If it worked, then I was!" Lumia said.

Larissa started giggling.

I was spared from needing to invent a suitable reply by a knock on the door.

Larissa was nearest, so she opened it to reveal Vash and Shyla standing on our doorstep.

"Come in," I called, as soon as I saw them.

"We're going shopping," Larissa said. "Will you come with us?"

"The stores may be closed," I warned. "Most of the shopkeepers are nearly as old as I am, and they might be equally tired."

"Then we'll take a long walk," Lumia said. "It's such a glorious day; I can't stay inside and miss it all!"

Ah, youth… I miss having it.

Vash looked at Shyla, and nodded.

"I will go with you," she said.

"Hooray!" Larissa said.

Vash stepped into the house, and our daughters claimed Shyla by standing on either side of her and each linking an arm into hers. The girls walked away, and Vash closed the door behind them.

"Can I get you anything?" I asked.

"No," he said, and patted his stomach with a grin. "Shyla saw to it that I'm not hungry."

I chuckled. "Yes, she would do that," I said. "Please, take a seat and make yourself comfortable. Then tell me what's on your mind."

He sat down on a smaller couch near the one where I sat, and seemed to relax. "How is Shyla doing?" he asked. "Is she able to do her lessons?"

"Her mind is like a very dry cloth when it touches water," I said. "She's soaking in every drop that she can get."

"She's always seemed intelligent," he said. He looked down, and his right hand moved toward his chest, but stopped short of touching his shirt. He frowned thoughtfully. "You… you haven't found her mental capacity lacking in any way, have you?" He continued contemplating his hand, where he held it over his chest, without touching.

"No," I said. "Where did a ridiculous question like that come from? She's sharp as a razor, once she learns something or even starts learning it. However, with new things that she hasn't yet learned she grows frustrated with herself. It's not unusual for her to insult herself with words like 'stupid' and 'dumb' when she's learning something entirely new and thinks that it's going too slowly."

"When I woke up this morning," he said, "I was lying on my left side. She was lying tightly against my back, with her arm around me. Her fingers had slipped between the buttons on my pajama top, and she was touching some of my scars."

He was still looking down, and his hand still hovered over his chest. I guessed that was probably where she'd touched his skin through the gaps between buttons on his pajama top. I sat quietly, waiting for him to continue.

"I told her that she was touching scars, and she startled. She immediately withdrew her hand just enough that she wasn't touching," he said. "She asked if she'd hurt me, and I said no. Then…"

He shook his head, and his expression was completely baffled… yet there was a hint of wonder on his face, too. "Then she sighed, and said 'thank God,' and put her hand back exactly where it had been, touching my scars again. That surprised me so much that she'd fallen back asleep before I had any idea of what to say."

I tipped my head to one side, experiencing my own confusion over what to say.

"She touched my scars," he said, very softly, "and all that mattered to her was if it hurt me. It didn't seem to bother her at all."

"She's not the only one who worries that touching you may cause you pain," I said. "Many of us have avoided touching you for that very same reason."

His facial reaction, upon hearing my comment, caused me to ask, "Did you think there was a different reason?"

"Disgust, revulsion, horror… things like that," he said softly, without looking up.

"No!" I said. "Don't tempt me to come over there and prove a lack of those things."

That made one corner of his mouth quirk up, and brought his gaze up to my face. It also made his cheeks distinctly pinker than they had been.

"Did she say anything else, after she woke up again?" I asked gently.

"She said I had cried out in my sleep, and that's why she came to me," he said. "She said she hugged me until I relaxed. However, I had placed my hand over hers as I slept, so she stayed to avoid waking me. Then she fell asleep."

I nodded. "That would be like her," I said.

"Doesn't she know that she shouldn't get into bed with me?" he said, still sounding puzzled.

"Human biology has not yet come up as a topic for study," I admitted. "It came up in a conversation once, under circumstances where instruction wasn't appropriate at the time. She seemed to know that it's considered 'bad manners' for two people of opposite genders to share a bed, unless they're married. However, she seemed completely puzzled as to why. If you cried out, though, she wouldn't care about manners. She would go to her friend, and try to comfort him."

He looked thoughtful, and nodded slowly.

"In fact," I said, "I suspect that she'd do the same for you even if she understood. She's very partial to you, Vash."

"She's an affectionate child," he said fondly. He again stared down at his own chest, where she had touched his scars.

As I watched him staring at himself, I realized something. Shyla hadn't just touched his body when she touched those scars. She had accidentally touched his naked soul, and he wasn't sure how to react to that.

He sat there, quietly, for a long time before he lowered his hand.

"Please," he said softly, "somehow, help her to understand that she shouldn't get into bed with me. I tried to tell her that it could be dangerous. I might mistake her for an enemy attacking me, and hurt her. She said she didn't believe I would ever hurt her… but in my sleep, if I didn't know it was her…"

He looked up at me, his expression pained. "I don't want to hurt her, Luida."

"Of course you don't," I said gently. Then I smiled. "You never want to hurt anybody, let alone a friend."

That same corner of his mouth quirked upward again. "That's true," he said. "I don't."

"I'll try to explain things to her," I promised.

"Thank you," he said, sounding relieved.

"So," I said, "will you be coming to church with us tomorrow? Shyla's in the choir, and I understand they've all been practicing hard to have a song ready for this weekend. I'd imagine that, after weathering the storm, there will be extra incentive to celebrate."

"Shyla's in the choir?" he said, sounding surprised.

"Yes," I said. "It took some heavy-handed encouragement, but I got her to join shortly after you brought her here. She's finally starting to enjoy it a little, three years later. She loves music, but she's so terribly bashful that it's still difficult for her."

"The town where she grew up was too small for a choir," he said. "She does love music. That was a good idea, getting her to join a choir. And you're right, I should support her effort. I will go to church tomorrow, so that I can listen to her sing."

"You sound as if you'd not planned to attend?" I said.

"I'd thought of leaving tonight," he said, "especially after what happened last night."

"Then I'm glad we talked," I said. "It would mean a lot to her, for you to hear her sing and enjoy it."

"It's not about enjoying it," he said. "I'll be there for the sake of my young friend."

"Don't you like going to church?" I asked, surprised. "I thought you always attended with Naomi and Shyla."

"I attended with them," he said, nodding. "But I'm always uncomfortable in churches."

"Don't you believe in God?" I asked, thinking I recalled hearing him talk as if he did.

"Yes," he said. "Rem taught me that, and the Ten Commandments, and to pray. That's almost all I know, except that bounty hunters attend churches, too."

I winced. "I don't think there are any bounty hunters here," I said. "If any appear, we'll do our best to keep them out of the church."

He shrugged, and that whimsical corner of his mouth quirked upward again. "No," he said, "they might need it more than I do."

I laughed, and then said, "We all need it."

He shrugged, and then stood up. "I should let you read your book," he said. "And I ought to check around Shyla's house, to make sure nothing there needs repairs."

I started to get up, but he gestured at me to stay and said, "Don't worry, I can let myself out. Enjoy your book." He smiled, and was gone before I had quite decided what to say.

I looked a little wistfully at my book, but I put it aside. I unwrapped from my quilt, drank my cooling hot chocolate, and stood.

In a few minutes, I was at the bookseller's door. When he opened it, I said, "Vash needs a Bible. He may leave before Monday. May I please see if you have one that's small and light, that he can take with him?"

The man was old enough to know Vash from before the puppet master's attack. He smiled. "For Vash's sake, I will open my store for you," he said.

"Thank you," I said.

…

_Lisa skipped over the details of Luida shopping among the small selection of Bibles, to choose the one she thought would best suit Vash. She found that less interesting than the descriptions of shopping trips that were for clothes, for Shyla._

_She turned to the next day, to see how well Shyla's choir had sung._

…

I brought the Bible I'd chosen for Vash with me. Both of our daughters approved the idea, and they had also written well-wishes for him, beside mine, inside the dark Thomas-hide leather cover.

We arrived to find him standing in the back, visiting with people as they came in. He was smiling, as usual, but he was also shifting from one foot to the other and his shoulders were tense.

I began to approach him, and my bodyguards encouraged the crowd to part and allow me to come through. I sighed.

Most of the time, my bodyguards were so unobtrusive that I forgot they were there. Church was a notable exception, where they always felt, to me, as if they were out of place. It was always tempting to try to send them home. However, as I'd told Vash, I really believed that Church could be good for everyone… including well-intentioned but awkward bodyguards.

I put the best face on the situation that I could. "Has anyone invited you to sit with them?" I asked Vash, when I reached him.

"No," he said, "or at least, not yet."

"Then let's show everyone that the council still welcomes you," I said. "Come sit with me and my girls, please?"

The tension in his shoulders eased very slightly. If I'd not been looking at his face and seen the movement, I probably would not have noticed the difference at all.

"Okay," he said softly.

"It's nearly time for the service to begin," I said. "Let's go, shall we?" I gestured for him to follow me, and he did.

My girls had been greeting their friends, but when they saw Vash following me toward the area where we usually sat, they joined us… as I'd known they would, when they saw their father coming with me.

When we reached a bench in the area where we usually sat, Larissa darted ahead and beckoned to us. Vash followed.

Lumia began to follow after him, but then she hesitated, looking at me. After a moment, she stepped aside, so that I could follow Vash and sit beside him. She knew that I planned to give him the Bible I'd bought for him yesterday afternoon, and that it would be more convenient if I sat beside him to offer the gift.

I smiled at her, and hugged her briefly as I passed. She smiled back, and we filed in behind Vash to take our seats.

I knew I hadn't much time, if I was going to give him his gift before service started. So I handed it to him as soon as I sat down. "Here," I said, "you might find this helpful."

He reflexively reached out and took the small book I handed to him. His brows drew together in a thoughtful frown as he read the cover, and then opened it. As he read what we'd written inside the cover, his frown melted away into a very gentle expression.

"So you three are worried about my soul?" he said softly.

"Yes," I said.

"Thank you," he said.

"Please," I said, "don't just accept it. Read it, too."

"I will," he said.

I knew Vash well enough to know that tone of voice. He wasn't just agreeing to put me off. He was giving voice to an intention, describing something he was determined to do.

I nodded, satisfied. "Thank you," I said.

The overture began playing, and we both fell silent and looked to the front.

The service went much as usual, though the preacher did acknowledge Vash's presence and included him in the benediction.

Shyla looked well in her silver-grey dress with the red embroidery and trim. She had added a matching grey ribbon to her hair, and matching red ribbon around her throat. She sang beautifully, and I suspected that she sang nearly as much for Vash as for God.

I could forgive her for that, though. When it came to Vash, I often felt the same way.


End file.
